Hidden
by Lornesgoldenhair
Summary: After the events of NFA Lorne has tried to escape from his past, but destiny has other things in mind for him.
1. Chapter 1: His Dark Reflection

Title: Hidden: His Dark Reflection.

Author: Lornesgoldenhair

Fandom: Angel

Pairings: Lorne/?

Rating: PG at the mo – probably R/NC-17 in later parts!

Timeline/Spoilers: Post Season 5 NFA. Spoilers for Angel season 5 and Buffy thru' to Season 7.

Creation Date: September 2005

Distribution: Just Ask

Disclaimer: Joss owns everything J

Summary: Post NFA Lorne has moved cities and is struggling to find a place in the world under a new identity, but the atmosphere of fear among the human population makes being a demon harder than ever. Working in a rundown bar in town he meets Sasha, a newly empowered and vehemently anti-underworld slayer with a mission to end all the demon life she can. Lorne senses her true path lies elsewhere and together they face the demons both real and within as they return to LA for an apocalyptic showdown.

A clatter from outside. Cats fighting on dustbins in the alley below. Or maybe something bigger. Lorne lay still in bed, nightmares still ringing in his mind, and watched as shadows danced in reflection on his ceiling. The room was dark, it was better that way, less chance of being disturbed. The light from the street formed silver slats on the flaking paintwork and everything seemed grey, colourless, the colour of the rain which never seemed to stop.

Maybe it stopped in the daytime when he slept but he doubted it. Times had changed and the sunlight had been driven away. Even at noon it struggled to cast its light on the world. Things of darkness ruled there now. Ever since…

Lorne turned suddenly onto his side and tried to block out the memories. His back to the window he buried his head under covers and squeezed his eyes shut. There was colour here, bloodshed and vibrant fear, even a year on. Why didn't those colours fade away into the grey of the present? He groaned into the pillow. The noise of struggle continued muffled by his blanket but loud enough to remind him it was time to get up. As much as he wanted to lie there forever and let the world outside drift away, base physical need drove him on. Hunger, thirst, loneliness. He was too much of a coward to curl up and die.

As he crawled from the bed he watched the silver slats turn blue and red with the arrival of the police outside the apartment. 'Police' was a misnomer but he didn't have a word for what they were now. He was surprised to see them in this section of town so late, but he knew they were stepping up the attack. If they found him here he'd have to move on he was sure of it. It had happened before. The apocalyptic forces which were spreading from California brought with them fear, panic and bad news for those assimilated demons such as himself. Gone were the days where a harmless anagogic could run a peace loving demon bar in downtown LA.

He listened to the scuffle as he got dressed, his dark reflection moving in the mirror as he fastened buttons and cuffs, adjusted his collar. A shot rang out below. His red eyes flicked up to the window, catching the flashing lights of the car which had pulled to a stop outside. For a second his face was etched in crimsons and blues, the hollows of his cheeks dark as the curve 

of his lips; the tips of his horns sharply outlined by the shadows falling on his forehead. Did he have reason to worry? Would they burst in unannounced and raid the building? He stood on tiptoe and peered through the blinds which shaded him. Two cops were holding down a demon in the alley, another on a walkie talkie stood by the car gazing in the direction of the high street, perhaps warning her colleagues of the one that got away. There was no sign of a Seeker, one trained to detect nearby magic, he would get away with it tonight.

Lorne let out his breath and picked up his keys from the dresser. As he passed the mirror he mumbled a well worn incantation and caught the shimmer of change in his eye as his reflection passed the glass. Every time he saw that change he felt sick.

'If you just want to stand back sir, we've got a situation,' the female cop by the car warned him as he left the building.

He casually pulled his coat around him to guard against the cold Chicago air and raised his eyes to meet hers unaffected and unashamed. 'What's happened?'

'Underworld problem, we're taking care of it, you should be careful at this time of night sir, a lot of trouble to be found on the streets these days.' She squinted at him and his stomach leapt.

'I work odd hours, can't really avoid it,' he replied filling in the empty space with words. 'I'm on my way now, but I…I'll be careful.' She nodded curtly and after a second she seemed to let go her suspicion.

'I won't keep you sir,' she concluded her radio crackling with voices and the whereabouts of the escaped demon.

'Goodnight,' he said quietly. His heart racing Lorne stepped through the chaos that resulted from the tussle and out along the street, aware all the time that the cop's eyes were fixed on him. On his movement, on his shape, on his features. On the tall lean body of a dark haired young man, making his way on a bitter winter night.

…….

The blade flashed in the streetlight as she resheathed it, taking care to wipe the burgundy blood from its edge as she did so. The buzz of adrenaline was still in her veins, how could they consider this wrong? The body at her feet wasn't a person, wasn't even close. Its skin was already turning midnight blue with death and its strange magenta eyes were glazed black. No, at least she was doing her part, it's what they should all be doing, the gift that they had was too special to waste sitting around reading old volumes in a smart Italian apartment.

As far as she was concerned the original chosen one, the famous Buffy Summers, had lost her way. Too much time was spent speculating and planning, asking demons nicely if they'd heard any news, flicking through parchments and consulting witches and covens. The apocalypse was now people and it wasn't getting any nicer. Half the states were already populated by darkness and demons were growing stronger by the day. OK she was new to the scene, the power had come to her only in the last few months but she embraced it completely. What a chance to do something right in the new crumbling world. She had heard so many stories from her west coast friends about the new climate of fear, she'd felt so 

helpless and so damn scared and now she had a chance to help. Couldn't Buffy understand that? Hadn't she herself made rash decisions for the sake of her friends before now?

But Buffy wouldn't move. There was a new way of doing things and she was in charge. The new slayers had to accept that. The old watchers council had lived by the 'kill everything non-human' rule and it had ended up being destroyed. Buffy did things differently. She weighed up options and prepared. She negotiated. This was a huge situation and they had to do things right because they couldn't afford a mistake.

Someone had been in the job too long. Fresh blood and passion was what was needed. When was the last time Buffy hit the streets and fought the war?

Sasha stepped over the corpse unceremoniously. There was no point in hiding it here, Chicago was too far gone in the throws of the apocalypse. It was becoming common to see underworld beings dead or alive, and besides she wanted to send a warning to those still living. There was a slayer in town. A real slayer who knew her job. And her job was a very simple one. Kill demons. Kill them all.

…….

The club was almost empty. No-one ventured out these days, but he was rather grateful for the limited clientele. It drew less attention to his workplace, less chance of getting caught. He knew the regulars and they knew him, or at least the version of him he chose to present. He took off his coat and slipped behind the bar to hang it out of harms way. His wardrobe was considerably duller and smaller than ever before he had to be careful with what he had.

'You're late,' his boss commented brushing past him with a tray of empties.

'Bit of trouble outside the apartment,' Lorne explained. Roody eyed him curiously setting the things in the sink for him to wash up.

'Demons?'

'Big hairy ones. Well not actually hairy as far as I could see but definitely beings of the non-human variety.' Lorne turned on the water and watched as it filled glasses and washed over his hands. His soft human hands. He could sense Roody behind him, arms folded over his large belly, leant against the wall, watching.

'You're going to have to be careful kid,' he said at last, 'One day they're going to get a Seeker down your block and sniff you out.'

'I'm careful,' Lorne said quietly, rinsing and stacking. 'It's some hefty mojo I've got working for me here, none of your cheap risky stuff, my girls owe me a few favours, they wouldn't give me some half baked spelled and put my little green ass in danger.' He thought of the Furies and felt a sharp pang for his old life in LA.

'You're one of the lucky ones….' A pause. Lorne could sense the anguish coming from Roody but couldn't place its source. 'Dego's gone.'

Lorne looked round at his boss who nodes sharply to confirm his suspicion. 'Think they must have picked him up. I told him that potion was junk, that the Seeker would see through it.'

Lorne looked back into the sink, at the swirling foaming water, and thought of the chipper little demon who used to collected the glasses. He heard Roody sigh.

'Do you need me to move on?' Lorne asked. 'They might come checking the other staff if they got Dego.' He didn't want to go. This place was OK, he couldn't think of many places in the current atmosphere where a boss would hire his kind and leave himself open to risk, prison or worse. Lorne would understand of that risk was too high now. He'd go. But only if he had to.

'You kidding?' Roody replied. 'You mix the best damn cocktail in the joint.' Lorne caught his wide genuine smile and noticed that it was edged with sympathy and friendship. 'No you hang here. Like you say, you've got the mojo working for you better than anyone. I'd never have guessed if… well doesn't matter how I guessed heh? You stay.'

'Thanks,' Lorne's voice was soft. He passed the back of his hand across his face in an effort to hide how very fragile he felt right then. Roody averted his eyes and busied himself with bottles and cans.

'Get your ass out in front of the bar Lorne,' he said, 'Don't be hiding that pretty face when you went to such lengths to get it, its one of my club's big attractions.'

…….

'Hey cutie, get me a beer,' Sasha plonked herself down at the bar and swung her eyes round the room. So far it looked clear. Couple of old guys supping in one corner, couple of young guys hitting on a girl at a table nearby. Quiet. Good. Folks were safer indoors tucked up in their beds, leave the night time for the demons and the slayers to do their work.

The bartender flipped the top off her beer and placed it in front of her waiting for her to stop looking about before he asked for the cash. Jeez things were lax here, he didn't even id her.

'It's ok,' he said at last and she turned her head sharply towards him. 'Its usually pretty quiet, we don't get trouble.'

'Oh I'm not worried about trouble,' Sasha shot back at him. 'Bring on trouble, it's what I'm here for.'

The bartender looked confused. Narrowed his big brown eyes at her. 'You should be careful talking that way sweetie, you're not from round here are you?'

Sasha bristled. 'Huh?'

'You accent, its east coast, New York?'

'What of it, you're not exactly from round here yourself.' Her tone was harsh and for a second Lorne thought she had seen through him. But that was paranoia. He allowed himself a small laugh and let a tentative smile lay around his lips.

'No.. I… er.. I'm from LA. I came here to…'

'Get away from them? Yeah I heard about LA. Real mess. Damned demons running roughshod over the town. I've got friends there… had friends there…' she corrected herself.

Lorne picked up on the defensive and painful vibes of loss.

'I'm sorry,' he said before he had realised it. 'For what happened to your friends.'

Sasha's bright eyes locked with his. He held his breath. Damn he kept doing that with clients. Keep feeling things and being all sympathetic. He was so going to give himself away one night. But no, she was smiling a little, a sad smile, and she dropped her eyes again to her beer. He was just the friendly bar tender. It was his job to be supportive right? He started to mix himself a cocktail. He needed a drink to take the edge off this skittishness he was feeling.

'I lost friends too, in LA,' he said shaking and pouring on autopilot as he spoke, 'when it first happened. They were right in the thick of it. I don't know what happened to them all.' Images of Wesley and Gunn passed through his memory. Images of the gun he held and Lindsay's face as he pulled the trigger. He blinked, returning to the bar and found her watching him. Sasha raised her bottle in a toast.

'To old friends, wherever they may be,' she offered and he clinked his glass to hers.

'You got a name?' he asked.

'Sasha.' She took a swig.

'So why come here, Sasha?' he asked, 'You'd be safer in New York, things are getting messy here.'

'That's why I came. I've got a mission.'

Lorne froze where he was wiping the bar. Mission. It was a word heavy with meaning. Angel had always talked about the mission.

'Oh yeah?' he asked lightly. 'Pretty thing like you… what kind of mission would bring you to a town in the state this one's in.'

'I'm not just a pretty face,' she said dryly. 'There's things I'm willing to do here that other people aren't. I'm not scared of it.'

Lorne ran his eyes over her subtly. She was young, maybe eighteen at most, but with a haunted look that suggested she had seen trouble before now. Perhaps recently. Her clothes were dark but that meant little. Most people wore dark colours now, it attracted less attention. His gaze stopped at her hands. The knuckles were grazed and as she turned her head to look around the room again he saw scratches on her neck. Oh yeah it was falling into place now. The attitude, the vibe in her aura, the way she carried herself.

'So I'm thinking,' she was saying, 'doesn't look like its going to get jiggy here tonight? Where's the hot spots?'

Lorne hesitated.

'Come on, you're not here to look out for me you're here to serve me beer and give me directions. Where does a girl go to see some action?'

'Depends on the action honey,' he tried.

'I ain't fooling. Like I say I've got a job to do here. It's not a job I chose, it chose me, but I'm gonna see it through. Now you're from LA, you've seen what goes bump in the night. Tell me where I can find it and kick its ass.'

The rules of the world really had changed but he'd always be the informant, the one who knew where the creatures of darkness gathered, even if it wasn't in his own bar anymore but in a cheap empty version in a dying city. Lorne finished his drink and sighed. Should he tell her? Wouldn't she just get herself killed? If he didn't tell her he'd just be delaying the inevitable. Like the girl said she had a mission. She'd complete it somehow.

'So?' she said hunkering down to look up at him.

There was a crash from the doorway and the few clients still populating the bar fell silent. Lorne counted six maybe seven cops, including he was certain those who'd seen him leave his apartment earlier that night. They blocked the door and cast their eyes around the club, their weapons were close at hand. Roody emerged from the backroom into the stunned bar.

'Can I help you officers?' he asked casually.

'We understand that until recently you employed an underworld creature in these premises.' The tall cop at the front of the group explained.

Roody's face did a convincing impression of confusion and disbelief.

'Dego Goodall.'

'He worked for me yes… but creature?'

'His papers were all in order,' the cop explained, 'And it seems he was under the influence of powerful magics. You weren't to know.'

Lorne shifted behind the bar. They were being too understanding. Too nice. Something was going to go wrong. And was it him or did the short female cop from outside his building keep staring at him? If he moved now he'd look suspicious. He fidgeted and tried to look calm. Sasha finished her beer and looked approvingly onto the scene. Even if there were no demons here these guys could tell her where to find them. They'd be glad of the help.

'Well I'm stunned to say the least,' Roody was saying, 'And I certainly hope you rid me of that demon scum, seeing as he was playing me so,' Lorne could feel the resentment in Roody's aura but couldn't fault his lies. The cop nodded in agreement and began to pace the building.

'I'm sure you wouldn't want to be taken for a ride by one of those critters again sir?' he said conversationally,' So I brought me a few helpers to check out the rest of your club.'

Lorne's heart leapt. He bit his lip hard and tried to think. Suddenly he noticed Sasha's eyes on him.

The cop motioned towards his gang who parted to reveal a small man in deep brown robes. His face was covered for the moment but Lorne knew that when his hood was removed his eyes would burn straight towards the bartender, and to the magic shrouding him. A Seeker. He felt his pale human skin break out in a sweat.

'You got something to worry about, _sweetie_' Sasha mocked. He saw her slide from the barstool and slip her hand towards a hidden weapon.

Roody had moved so that he stood between the cops and the bar. His back was tense beneath his tee. Lorne had seconds to make his decision. He saw the Seeker raise his hands to lift the hood from his face, caught a glimpse of the ice white eyes and heard his boss scream at him to run. He bolted through the back of the bar to the emergency exit, throwing himself on the lever to unbolt the door and out into the alleyway beyond.

But he knew he wasn't alone. As the sounds of the scuffle became less he could hear the footsteps coming after him. Slayer. She had to be a slayer and she knew. He careered around one corner his blood pounding through his veins and saw with dismay that the alleyway came to a dead halt, a pile of broken crates and garbage, a high wall blocking his way. He whirled trying to find a means of escape and came face to face with his assailant. Sasha pointed the knife at his throat.

'Demon,' she said.

……..

'There's been a mistake,' he stuttered, 'it's not what you think.'

'Well you're not what I thought you were that's true. Which is a shame 'cos you know, you look kinda hot, Mr Tall Dark and Handsome. I knew it was too good to be true.' She was circling him now, well aware that he couldn't get away, she was too fast. 'Why don't you drop that glamour and let me see your real face.'

'That's make it so much easier for you wouldn't it. Killing me as a demon.'

'I can kill you either way, I'll see you're demon side when you die, they always revert back to form. No I'm just curious is all.'

'Please don't do this.'

Sasha raised her eyebrows at him.

'I don't think you understand. You're a demon and I'm…

'A slayer. I know,' he said quickly.

'Good!' she was surprised but hid it well, 'You know your mythology, did they tell you about me when you were a little demon, scary stories to make you go to bed and sleep like a good boy?'

Lorne said nothing. Bedtime stories weren't really part of his Pylean childhood.

'No matter. You know who I am and that makes things simpler.'

'The slayers I knew didn't kill for the sake of killing,' Lorne said.

'Slayers you knew! You trying to win me over by name dropping now?'

'I'm just saying… they understood how this dimension works, that good and evil isn't always pure, that there are exceptions and levels and grey areas…'

'And purple ones and green ones and slimy ones and all sorts… which are you?' she was growing impatient. 'Drop the mask, let's finish this. Evil is evil. Demon is evil.'

'This isn't the mission,' Lorne said.

'Its _my _mission.'

So that was it was it. He was going to die in an alleyway at the hands of a rogue slayer with a personal vendetta. All that time he'd gone against his better judgement, put himself at risk to help Angel, the powers that be, used for his psychic abilities, used for his connections, sacrificing who he had been to kill Lindsey. All that. For nothing. Well he guessed he'd escaped long enough. And he wasn't sorry now, the last year had been tough, empty, achingly lonely. And what good had he left in him to offer? Maybe it was time to join his friends.

He mumbled the reverse incantation and watched as his hands turned from pink to green. He closed his eyes and knew when they reopened they'd be red. He felt the horns return on his forehead. If he had to bow out the show he'd bow out as himself.. as…

'Lorne,' she said.

He looked up and spotted her surprise. Her blue eyes were wide and her guard dropped for a second. 'Your name is Lorne,' she repeated.

'Have we met?' he fumbled.

Sasha's mouth was opened. 'I've read about you, seen photographs. That stuff about knowing other slayers…'

'Well mainly Faith, but you know …. a couple…'

She was gazing at him, fascinated by his features. 'She mentioned you. Well they all did. You worked with Angel right? In LA?'

'Yes.'

'You looked after Faith?'

'I did. That was always my job. Not big with the fighting. I made cocktails and tended the occasional wound.' He laughed uneasily.

'You knowledge of Orpheus saved her.'

'Well… I…'

'She's still grateful.'

Lorne shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't sure how to take this. She'd gone from wanting to kill him to practically asking for an autograph and now she…

Sasha raised the knife once more.

Oh now she appeared to want to kill him again.

'You worked with Angel,' she repeated, 'He is no longer part of the mission the slayers work towards.'

'I thought you had your own separate mission!' Lorne said desperately.

'I do. I eradicate evil. Buffy and the others tolerate Angel and what he did, they don't work with him, they let him be. But at the end of the day he played a great part in the apocalypse and we can't be entirely certain that he did so entirely in the name of good. He lost his way. And as you were part of his team, you lost yours too. I'm sorry Lorne, I have to do this.'

'Angel's alive?' despite the very prominent threat of Sasha's knife Lorne could only care about one thing she'd said.

'You didn't know?'

'I …. I left before the final battle. I'd had enough. I asked him not to contact me if he made it. Regretted it ever since… but he's OK?'

'He lives, if it can be called living being a vampire.'

Lorne smiled. Sweet relief. Angelcakes made it. But… 'What about the others?'

Sasha opened her mouth to rebuke him, he was wasting time, playing on feelings and pretending he cared. But as she looked hard at him and at the need in his eyes she relented. 'The vampire William the Bloody lives too, and the demon creature Illyria, but the others…'

'Wesley? Gunn?' Lorne said softly. 'Oh God.' And he sat down hard on the alley floor, his back pressed against the cold wall. Sasha stood amazed. Swinging between incredulous disbelief and guilt that she hadn't broken it to him more gently. He certainly didn't look very harmful, this green skinned thing at her feet. He looked crushed, as though the life had gone 

out of him long before she arrived with her weapons. And the stories she'd heard about him. He was part of the Powers that Be wasn't he? A force for good and a reader of destinies. She hadn't believe the tales, or chosen not to. It had to stay simple, black and white, so that she could seek out the bad in revenge for the people she'd lost. But what about the people other folks had lost. People like Gunn. People like Wesley, an old school watcher of the kind she admired. He'd worked with Angel longer than most, she couldn't really believe that made him a bad person. Not now when his friend was here weeping quietly for his memory. A demon, weeping. For the first time in months she felt confused about what was right. Her plans had been so clear cut and now here in this dark alley she felt uncertain and very, very young.

A shout from the end of the alley and she was spurred into action, the cops had gotten past Roody and were hot on Lorne's trail. She could see them approaching, fewer than before, four or five maybe and the seeker at their midst. She glanced at Lorne, he must have heard them, why wasn't he moving. In the cold light of the winter night she saw nothing but the glimmer of tears on his cheek and the dejected slump of one floored by grief. She knew that feeling, she felt it grip her now. Sasha looked again at the cops, they moved slowly knowing that Lorne was trapped. They were confident and assured that they would finish this. As though in a dream Lorne raised his head to see them, his face impassive in resigned defeat. And it angered her.

'Dammit Lorne, you just going to sit there?'

He looked at her blankly.

'Well the hell I'm not.' She spat at him, 'You've got some talking to do and I want to hear it, if you're going down it's me who's going to take you, not them.'

She launched herself at the cops in flurry of blows and rage. In the struggle the Seeker, sensing imminent defeat at the hands of a real live slayer, chanted and vanished in a bright light at the centre of the police. Sasha's violence was all consuming, she'd been hankering for a fight all night, and even though she wasn't entirely sure she was on the right side, the release it gave her was overpowering. She could sense a change in herself, this demon beside her was having an effect, she just had to find out what that effect was, sort herself out and kick his ass herself. Her anger with herself at her uncertainty was raining down in blows on the cops. With two down and unconscious the others fled, calling for back up on their radios. Panting she turned back to her companion.

Lorne remained motionless and lost in thought, his arms dangling limply over his knees. He was dimly aware of the slayer crouching beside him.

'Move' she said and half dragged him along the alley, leading him through the winding darkness in the opposite direction to the cops. 'Move now… this isn't the time…'

'They're gone…' his voice was empty.

'Yeah I kicked their…' she stopped realising he didn't mean the cops. He looked so lost. Damn him for making her feel. 'Yes they are… but you're not… yet…' she said warningly. Lorne stumbled, trying to shake himself out of his reverie. But he couldn't escape the faces of Wesley and Gunn. Maybe if he hadn't left… maybe if he hadn't been so selfish… he could have helped. They staggered along in the dark. Sasha keenly aware of each noise and 

movement, very thing which could leap out and attack them. She trotted ahead and checked out the lay of the land. 'Come on!'

Lorne slowed to a halt. Why wasn't he running? He stood hesitating, misplaced in the world as though his mind couldn't take in what she had told him. Sasha cursed but beneath her fight she was wrestling with herself. Maybe it was a trick peculiar to empathic demons, or maybe it was the honest expression of the emotions that crossed his face, but he tapped something inside her. Something that recognised that numb feeling of directionless loss. It struck her then how alone he must be. For good or bad Angel and his team had been his family in this dimension. She'd read the reports and heard the tales. Thrown through a portal into LA Lorne had built himself a life and worked for what he believed was a good purpose. Now it was gone. Without realising it she had dealt him a harder blow than her fists could ever have.

Lorne swayed in the alley. For a second longer she struggled before gritting her teeth and approaching him. Something was pushing her to get him out of there and she needed his focus.

'Read me,' she said suddenly.

'What?' he raised his ruby eyes to look at her.

'I need to know what my mission really is. And you can tell me that. If you're all the things they taught me in Italy, if you read destinies and create a link to the PTB, you can read me and put me on the right track.'

'I thought you were already sure if your track, missy. And it seemed to me like a pretty straightforward bloody one.' Grief made him less careful.

'I didn't just lose friends in LA. I lost my mom. She and dad divorced and she moved out there a few years ago. I went a little crazy. At first I just felt helpless and then I got my powers and I just…'

'Hit out at anything green purple or blue. I understand that honey, really I do, but the world isn't that simple…'

'I'm getting that,' Sasha said. 'So read me. 'Cos I'm sure I'm here for a reason and I can't figure out what it is.'

'I don't do readings anymore sugarpie,' Lorne said and leant back against the wall. He slithered to a sitting position. His eyes travelled over the stars in the sky above him. It was bitterly cold. He felt it seep through his clothes and flesh like misery. 'I did that for a long time because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought I could help people. But in the long run look what happened. The apocalypse came and no amount of reading could stop it. I just saw it coming.'

'That wasn't your fault,'

Lorne raised his eyebrows. 'That's an interesting sentiment coming from you. I thought green guilty in your eyes.'

'Like I say I'm not sure anymore. I'm not sure of anything. I need to know where I fit. Please?'

Lorne sighed and turned where he sat to face her. He shouldn't. It was part of a world he had left behind. He was trying everything in his power not to be demon, to look harmless human and ordinary and yet something told him that this time it would be ok. He wanted to do what he did just this once.

'Sing something.'

Sasha looked confused.

'That's how I read, singing opens up your soul for me to look inside.'

'I don't know what to sing.'

'Anything really… the themetune from your favourite TV show, a jingle from an advert, or you know something that means more to you. It doesn't matter what it is.'

Sasha look embarrassed but after a moment's struggle came out with the first few bars of a childhood favourite.

'_Somewhere over the rainbow,_

_way up high….'_

At first Lorne was touched by the childlike quality to her voice and let his eyes smile as he watched her… but rapidly as the song progressed her aura darkened and visions began flitting before him. Dear God… Dear God…Lorne reeled back and fell hard against the ground. He clutched at his head and groaned. He was dimly aware of her voice coming to a stuttering halt.

'Lorne? Lorne?'

'Ah…' he scrabbled to right himself, the pictures still fresh in his mind.

'What is it? Is it bad? Am I bad?'

He reached out for her and held her arm. 'No honey, you're not bad, never say you're bad. But I see now… I know why you're here… why I'm here…. and where you need to be…'

He wasn't making sense he could tell, the pain was blindingly sharp behind his eyes. But something was driving him. Was this why he had escaped LA? Did the PTB have a plan for him after all? All these months rotting in Chicago, aimless, was it time to make a difference again? For Wesley and Gunn. He owed them that. If he let them down before he owed it to the world they loved. The feeling was one between fulfilment and terror.

'Where do I need to be? What am I supposed to do?'

Lorne looked deep into her then and she felt her heart jump.

'I know what the mission is,' he said, 'and it's bigger than you could ever imagine.'

……..

'Why can't you tell me?'

Lorne was hurrying along the alleyway in the direction of his home. It might just be possible to grab a few essentials before the cops descended on it.

'It doesn't work like that cupcake, I read and I guide, I can't tell you all the details because it might change your Fate, but you have to trust me on this. What we have to do it, it's so important. Honey there might be a plethora of chosen ones out there in the world these days but you're more chosen than most. Now come on we need to get moving.'

Sasha's alarm turned to panic and anger. She snatched Lorne's arm and spun him to pin him against the alley wall. He slammed against it with a painful 'oof' of breath.

'Tell me!' she growled 'tell me what it is. Why should I trust you? You're not even human! I've known you five minutes and I let you into my head. It's a spell, it has to be a spell!'

Lorne relaxed under her grip in a vain attempt to show he was no threat and he wasn't going to try any dodgy demon moves on her.

'You're scared, I get that, hell I spend most of my days being scared, it's what I'm good at. But something else I'm good at, apart from belting out a Barbara Streisand number, is reading. I'm not saying I've never got it wrong, but what I saw in you comes straight from the PTB. You have to get to LA hunny, you've got work to do, and only you can make a difference. I know you're disillusioned with Buffy and the others, I saw that in you, and maybe you have a right to be. Maybe you do need to take the fight to the apocalypse and not wait for it to come and get you. But you still need guidance. And that's my job. So you're stuck with me, better or worse, whether you decide to stick that pointy sharp thing in my guts or not. And I really hope you don't… just for the record.'

Sasha stepped back from him. 'LA. I need to go there?'

'That's where the big bad is. That's where we're headed.'

She shook her head violently and for a second he thought he saw tears.

'No, no I can't,'

'I thought that's what you were doing anyway? Heading for the trouble?'

'I was... I mean I am… but…'

'But now it's an official decree from the PTB it's gotten all scary? Newsflash dumpling, I'm not exactly relaxed about this myself. But you don't ignore the PTB sweet cheeks.'

It was beginning to snow. Large thick flakes which floated through the air between them, settling all around, fresh and untouched. Sasha was still looking at him wildly.

'I don't understand any of this. I came here to fight. I knew my purpose…' she trailed off blinking snowflakes from her long lashes.

'We need to move,' Lorne said from the shadow, 'I've some magics at my apartment that could help us, we need to get there before the cops do. I'm with you in this. God knows why, but I know its right and I have to do it. What else would I do anyway, spend the rest of my days posing as a human? Living a lie, mixing up a bad Manhattan on a Saturday night for some lonely cop who's been brave or stupid enough to leave his house in the middle of an apocalypse? We can make a difference, you and me…. I've just got to… change… before we hit the streets…' His voice trailed and he began to mumble a language she didn't understand. She squinted through the heavy snow to focus on his face and try to decipher what he said. Her mind was racing and yet she clung to his warm voice to guide her.

'I trust you,' she said suddenly, 'I don't know why but I… trust you.'

A shimmer. 'Good,' he stepped forward from the wall and removed his jacket, slinging it lightly round her shoulders, 'Now come on before you freeze, Slayer or not its getting nippy out here and I'm suddenly filled with the desire to keep you safe for the good of the world… pneumonia at this stage would totally wreck the whole destiny thing,' but she didn't move. He saw her eyes flicker over his and felt a mixture of pleasure and unhappiness at her response. She was entranced and he saw it. Before he knew it her fingers were following the contours of his face, his human face, in abject fascination.

'Who _are_ you?' she whispered.

'I'm Lorne,' he smiled, deep brown eyes sparkling, 'and we're about to save the world.'

………

It was like driving straight into solid night. As though her eyes were playing tricks on her. Sasha kept blinking to try and clear the grey but it seemed the grey was real. Spreading out before her on the road to California. She looked in the rearview of the van. Was he awake yet? He lay so still sometimes she couldn't tell and yet at others he would toss and turn, whispering in his dreams. She watched as he turned now, a faint sigh reaching her from over the sound of wheels on tarmac. She struggled with herself and at the feelings that small sound evoked.

So many days now she had had the opportunity to kill him. The Sasha of mere weeks ago would have been furious with her she was certain. A demon, a green horned demon sleeping in the back of her stolen van, driving her through the night to her 'destiny' while she slumbered vulnerable under the blankets they had taken from his home. None of it made sense. Her experience screamed at her to stop this nonsense. Kill him now. He was unnatural, as demon as they came, embroiled in magics and myth. Look at the spells he cast; his daily transformation into the young man who took the wheel each evening to let her rest. She sighed angrily. She reviled herself but that's where her confusion lay.

They would break each night at sundown and when they did he would cast his spell in preparation to relieve her. If he stopped for gas or supplies he would not be questioned. The pair would prepare a meal or stop for a drink at a roadside inn and as each grew more accustomed to the other they would swap stories and banter, a little light in the drudgery of the journey. To every outsider they were a young couple on a road trip grabbing some food before heading off into the night. She hated herself, but she loved those moments. And just sometimes she let herself slide and believe them. He was funny and he was kind and in his human guise he was beautiful. She'd been alone so long she had forgotten what it was like to feel that tingle of attraction. Now for a few minutes each evening she belonged to someone in the eyes of the world. And she didn't need to fight.

She'd wake in the morning to see him still at the wheel and she'd lie motionless an extra moment. Sometimes he would sing. A beautiful voice she conceded, too lovely to be human, too filled with depth and feeling, to be so close to it and to let it wash over her softly felt like nothing she had experienced before. It was intimate. When he wasn't aware of her he would let the melodies come, mostly sad. It touched her more than she liked to admit to herself. He was a creature of camp sarcasm and upbeat jest, he was rich in humour and energy, as garish as his skin tone, and yet unobserved he was so different. With the first rays of the sun blinding his mirrors he wouldn't see her listening behind him. He was alone with his music and his thoughts, and his unhappiness burned beneath the mask. She hadn't thought demons capable of feeling.

Eventually he would sense her and bring the song to a finish, pumping up the tempo a little or disguising the tremor in his voice. And they would stop, make breakfast, talk again. And as they talked he would murmur the words which caused his change. The warm brown eyes and open smile of the young man she was growing so fond of would fall away, replaced with demon red. It never failed to shock her but what shocked her more was the way she felt when she knew he had seen her reaction. He would laugh it off but it stung him and every morning he would move into the dark recesses of the van and sleep away the day in the knowledge that she had been repelled.

She tried to stop the thoughts. They had so much to do. It was bad enough that she was letting a demon help her, never mind that she seemed to be forming some sort of friendship with him. Even if it was just the half which could fool her into thinking he was human. No she had work to do, get the job done, remember the mission. Her feelings for Lorne, whatever they were, could wait. They could wait so long she might never have to face them.

Somewhere close there was an epicentre to the apocalypse. A rent in the sky through which disaster poured. Or perhaps a group of powerful wiccans casting black magic. Lorne would say nothing, explaining that he had no detail of the opposition only a sense of doom and a strong sense of the role she had to play in preventing it. They had found little to guide them, following only instinct and the road west. The few people the met were headed east, stories of destruction and loss on their lips but nothing concrete. She had expected more. More demons, more vampires. Things to fight and to torture for information. But even the vampires seemed to be heading towards the populated areas, the darkness behind them losing its appeal as the people left.

'Are we nearly there yet?'

She jumped.

'Sorry sweetiepie I should have warned you there was a big green demon sneakin' up behind you.'

Ruffling his gold tinted hair with one hand Lorne lowered himself into the passenger seat of the van and began rummaging for snacks in their supplies.

'Too damn right,' Sasha said, 'There's nothing I hate more than sneaking demons.'

Lorne looked at her and smiled a wry smile, 'Well I'm grateful for your tolerance of this one, another restful few hours passed without waking up to find a stake in my guts… Oreo?' he offered, big red eyes wide.

She laughed. Damn he made her laugh. He handed her the cookie.

'So we're…?' he queried.

'Coming up to Vegas.'

An excited gasp and she turned to find him open mouthed with glee cookie pinched between thumb and forefinger.

'This is exciting because?' she asked, ''Cos if you ask me things are just getting worse out there Lorne, look at the sky… we've not seen anyone for ages, this is nasty…'

'But it's Vegas!' Lorne had his face pressed to the window beside him, 'I can't see a damn thing! Where are the lights? Where's the neon!' he spun towards her. 'Last time I was here I was talk of the town. Talk. Of. The. Town. I tell ya! I had this show and these dancers and this fabulous dressing room with a Jacuzzi… oh kitten I can't tell you it was the bomb!' he gesticulated with the Oreo, 'Apart from you know… the stealing people's destiny's thing and the being beaten into a pulp periodically when I refused…' a shadow dropped over his face, 'and the girl they killed,' he added softly. Sasha drove on for a moment waiting out his silence. After a beat he continued. 'But the show honey, before it got all nasty, oh it was wonderful. I was _someone_! I had bill boards and lights and costumes and I sang…. Oh I just belted out those numbers… Lady Marmalade…' he sucked the cookie crumbs from his fingers and suddenly opened his mouth '_Voulez –vous couchez avec moi , c'est soir?' _ he sang with such a force Sasha thought she felt the van shake. 'Oh the whole audience singing along…' he remembered and then he stopped again.

Sasha allowed a half smile. 'You had a show?'

He nodded, 'Uh-huh.'

'In Vegas?'

'Yup. Tro-pi-ca-na,' he emphasised.

'They didn't have an issue with the whole green thing? Or were you magicking yourself sexy even back then?'

Lorne looked stung, the smile dying and she regretted what she'd said. It was an increasingly sensitive issue between them. 'They didn't care Sasha,' he answered, 'they wanted my energy and my voice, they wanted me. Some people I guess thought it was a costume, others probably knew it wasn't, but it didn't matter. It was Vegas, it was glitz and show and scandalously wild nights for all. They accepted me. I fitted.' He looked back at the window and bit his lip. 'I was me and I was good; I was someone.'

Sasha watched his reflection a strange sensation of sadness at her heart. 'You still are,' she said quietly, but when he looked round she kept her eyes on the road. She knew damn well he'd pick up on her vibes but she didn't let on. After a few minutes he suggested they swap seats. They pulled up and got out, clinging to the vehicle in the blustery darkness as they changed sides. When he climbed back into the van she noticed he was still green. He hadn't cast his spell tonight.

'You not going to… you know?'

'Change?' he asked. He frowned. 'Well I don't see many people round here who'd be causing us trouble do you?'

'Even so we could get stopped…'

Lorne looked at her sharply and his voice followed his expression. 'Listen honey the only folks going to stop us round here are going to be of the green and scaly type themselves. It might be _you_ who has to hide. You might actually be grateful to have one of us on your side. And I am on your side cupcake, don't you forget it. Maybe you should get used to that. Me… green guy… on your side… not the half baked glamour I cast to get us by… _me_.'

'I'm sorry,' she sad stiffly and looked away into the gloom outside. 'I am grateful, I just… when you're human…'

'I know but that's the thing… I'm never human… maybe its time I stopped casting that illusion pumpkin… because that isn't who I am, it's just who you'd like me to be.'

Sasha winced as the words hit true. Jesus he must sense it every time he cast the spell. She bit back confused tears. This whole situation was so hard. They didn't teach you this stuff at slayer school.

'I'm going to get some rest,' she said quietly.

'You do that, we're not far out now,' his voice was inscrutable. Sasha stepped into the rear of the van and lay down fully dressed on the bed. She felt sick and anxious and she sensed she wouldn't sleep. Instead she lay on her side and hoped he wouldn't see her in the rearview. But he didn't have to see, he could feel, she was certain he could feel.

'I'm sorry,' he said from his place at the wheel. 'I know you've been born into the slayer thing with the big hate for the demon kind. I get that. Back in Pylea it's the human beings who are demonised. They keep them for slaves and spit on them in the streets. I've seen both sides of the coin and I understand how confusing this whole thing must be. I don't hate you for it, I'm not even angry about it and I didn't mean to snap…' She listened to the warmth of 

his voice through the darkness. 'I'm just hurting,' he went on, 'I used to have people who loved me, really loved me and now they're gone. The apocalypse took them and it left a climate of fear… I can't seem to find anyone now who can see past the green. I hate looking in the mirror and seeing my human face, the lie I'm forced to cast in order to fit in. I _hate_ it. So I'm touchy. Hell I've always been a bit of a diva,' he chuckled and she relaxed a little, 'But I'm with you kiddo,' he went on sensing the change in her aura behind him. 'Right now I'd move heaven and earth to get you through this, because you've got this destiny and because you need me whether or not you like it. But also because it's the right thing to do and because I'm your friend. I don't want that to be a problem for you…'

Sasha choked back a sob.

'It's not…' she managed.

'You sure about that?' he glanced in the rearview and saw her lying foetal behind him. Sasha stayed still a moment longer, breathing in the scent of him on the blankets. The demon scent which was strangely sweet and comforting. She had no idea how they'd gotten this far, but he'd never wavered and God knew she'd given him reason to waver. That sense of trust she'd felt the first night, it was real.

'I'm sure,' she said.

'Get some rest,' he smiled. And as she closed her eyes she heard his voice low and sweet.

'_When the night has come,  
And the land is dark,  
And the moon is the only light we see,_

_No I won't be afraid, Oh I won't be afraid,_

_Just as long, as you stand, stand by me….'_

…..

They were about seventy miles outside of LA when it started. It had been dark for hours and Sasha had lost track of all time. The sky above was swirling purple and black as the dark forces became more concentrated around them, everything seemed desolate, destroyed, but far from empty. Something was out there, something vast.

Lorne was groaning in his sleep and she could hear it even above the rising winds. He sounded worse than usual and she slowed the van. It was becoming more and more difficult to see what remained of the road. Blackened shapes were flying across the beams of their headlamps, the light barely made an impact as though the air around them was thick with viscous darkness.

'Jesus,' she muttered and pulled the van to the side of where she assumed the road was. She cut the engine ad listened to whatever was out there battering across the metal. Whatever it was, it was only mildly interested in them, a sleepy kitten with a curious toy, batting it softly but with little real incentive to pounce. It would changed she was certain when they grew nearer. Nearer to whatever it was Lorne told her she was hunting. Did he even know? Behind 

her Lorne's sleep was growing violent. He spun in the blankets, tangled and troubled. Sasha moved to wake him but stood hesitating above him.

In the dim light of the van she watched as his features contorted with distress. He thrashed suddenly and one arm smacked hard against the edge of their make shift bed. She flinched, watched him thrash again and spotted the blood between his lips. He had bitten his cheek or tongue and now a streak of fresh red made its way from the corner of his mouth. She had never been so aware before now of what he was, now that his alien features were knotted in anxiety. She tried to imagine what she would do if it was the young man lying there in such disquiet, reach out? Wake him? Hold him in her arms? But her thoughts were cut short.

Lorne's eyes flew open and he sat up in the bed as though seized by his collar and dragged upright. He gasped hard, a high pitched noise as though he might choke. His face blanched pale beneath is green skin and he shook hard.

'Where are we?' he asked without looking at Sasha.

'I guess were coming up to LA, sixty, seventy miles maybe, its so dark,' she went on unable to restrain the words she'd be longing to share for the last fifty miles, 'its just black, Lorne, thick and black, there's something out there…'

'I know I can feel it…'

'Yes is hammering the van…'

'No I can _feel_ it….' he repeated, 'it's not a thing or a demon, its not even a hell mouth or a mystical force… what's been unleashed here isn't evil in the sense of the eternal battle between good and bad… its more basic than that…it's…' she watched as he flinched and bit hard on his lip. 'It's pain,' he said as if he had just made the decision. He nodded to himself. 'Its thousands upon thousands of years of pain pouring from the heart of this apocalypse.'

Lorne pulled back the blankets and in a daze staggered through to the front of the van. He appeared almost drunk, clinging onto the seats and supporting himself as he looked through the windscreen and the whirling darkness beyond.

'Everything I touch….' He whispered, 'It hurts…'

Sasha came up beside him.

'You'll feel it too soon sweetie,' he continued, 'as we get closer, I'm just getting a major whammy 'cos of my empathic gig, but soon you'll feel it too. You mustn't let it stop you.'

'What are we doing?' she asked, suddenly frustrated with Lorne's dreamy talk. It was though he was on something, he couldn't quite function and he couldn't quite get the urgency of the situation. 'Give me something to fight Lorne, a direction we're to head in, we can't just drive into the centre of this thing and hope we come up with a plan.'

Lorne slumped against the side of the van and looked at her. She noticed how his brows furrowed with every movement he made.

'We have a direction. Why do you think the PTB got us together honey? I'm an empath and we're tracking the source of pain. Make any sense yet? I'll know when we're near, I'll find it for you, whatever it is, however it's embodied, and then you can destroy it. But I'm your guide sweetie, so what do you say you get back behind the wheel and I'll read the map.'

'If you're in this much pain now what are you going to be like when we find it?' Sasha couldn't keep the worry from her voice.

'Worse,' Lorne said simply and settled into the passenger seat. Sasha started the engine and took a second to glance across at her companion. The shadows outside cast darkness in his red eyes and the blood by his mouth looked black. She averted her eyes and pressed down on the accelerator.

Closer and closer and Lorne seemed to be suffering more. Each bump on the road or harsh wind seemed to jar him and at one point she looked across to see him, eyes squeezed tight shut and arms tight around his body as though to keep himself from breaking. With each movement he whimpered. She barely had time to register the body which flew against the windshield.

'Shit!!' she slammed on the breaks. Lorne cried out as he was pitched forward to the dash. 'Be quiet!' she snapped and Sasha listened. She peered out into the darkness, one hand reaching for a weapon concealed inside her jacket. Lorne was straightening himself in his seat, more blood now from his forehead. He touched it gingerly.

Sasha reached for the doorhandle.

'Wait! What are you doing!' Lorne cried, 'You can't go out there we don't know what….' But she was gone. Slipped into the dark. 'Damn!' He scrabbled to look through the glass but nothing presented itself to him in the inky pitch. He strained to hear her movement. He could go out there…

A shudder and the door at the back of the van was wrenched open. Lorne wheeled round and braced himself in his seat for attack. But it was her, and dragging the body with her.

'Holy crap!' Lorne exclaimed, 'Who in hell would be this close to it all?'

'Vampire,' she puffed dumping the body.

'What and you didn't stake him? Why isn't that guy dust? Why is he lying on our floor in one wholesome undead piece?' Lorne's disbelief numbed his discomfort.

'Simple,' Sasha said grabbing something to bind the vamp with. 'He's this close to the centre he must know something, maybe work for someone, and besides I couldn't pass up the opportunity of giving him a good beating when he just landed on the bonnet.'

Lorne hovered by the cabin, 'You are one scary lady, sugarpie.'

The vampire groaned. Lorne had never seen one quite so ugly. Its features were twisted beyond the game mask they wore. Angel had never looked that bad even on his worst days. 

Sasha hit the creature hard across the face. Lorne winced. The vampire spat blood at their feet.

'Talk,' Sasha said. 'Where's the source? Who's doing this?'

The vamp growled and she lashed out again.

'Talk.'

Nothing. It glared at her with narrowed yellow eyes.

'Knock him out,' Lorne encouraged from the sidelines.

'He won't talk then!'

Lorne stepped toward them, towering over the vamp kneeling on the floor of the van. The thing leered at him and he stared right back with bright inhuman eyes.

'He doesn't have to,' Lorne said, 'Now hit him.'

…….

Lorne removed his hands from the creature's temples, it had been a long shot but he figured the Powers That Be had wanted him to win this one. Perhaps the weird energy from the epicentre had leant him some extra psychic powers, but he hadn't expected to be that successful not with something as soulless and purely evil as this. He sat back on his haunches and regarded the vamp.

'Well,' Sasha said, 'see anything?'

He remained silent. His eyes glazed and inside a turmoil churning. He couldn't let on. If he let on now they would never succeed. Stay light Lorne. Too much rests on this. So he babbled.

'Rather too much for my liking, remind me to stay out of vamp minds in future, its messy in there, all that conflict and blood shed, all those icky memories… the tastes…' he wiped his mouth, his blood smearing the back of his hand.

'The epicentre, what did you learn?' Sasha pressed.

'It's near here, very near, I can get us there but we'll have to go on foot, the place is near destroyed it's too dangerous for the van. We'll be ok, there aren't many like him. I got the impression from the state of his mind that you have to be pretty nuts to hang around.' He got up and moved cautiously round the van, his muscles sore and stiff.

'And what do we do when we get there? What do I have to fight?'

Lorne looked at her curiously, sadness washing over him.

'I'll tell you later,' he said softly, 'let's just get there first.'

'Oh no you're not fobbing me off with that I need to know. I'm not going all that way to fight some unknown monster.'

'It's not unknown, and there's no problem defeating it. You'll barely lift a finger. Trust me, I read your destiny. Ah…' he shushed her with one finger of his own 'Trust your guide on this one, it's for the best.'

'Listen Lorne…' the vamp groaned at their feet and interrupted her protest.

'Do me a favour and stake that guy…' he said changing the subject. Sasha bent low with one fast swoop and plunged the stake into the demon's chest. It dusted and sprinkled itself over their bed. Lorne wrinkled his nose and wiped vamp ash off his sleeve in an old and long unused gesture of grooming.

'You ready?' he asked.

'Hey who's the slayer here?' he voice cracked.

'You're frightened.'

'And you're not?' she asked.

'I'm always frightened, I wasn't born with super powers,' he winked playfully, all the time his heart thudding with the truth he had seen.

'I might not be frightened if I knew what we were facing Lorne,' she tried.

Lorne looked at her steadily. 'Honey if I told you that…' his eyes smiled kindly at her, and with a step he held her by the arms. So close. She was so close she could see every line of his face and feel the steady warmth of his breath on her cheek as he spoke. 'You can face anything this little apocalypse throws at you and come out the other side kicking and screaming. A little birdie called the PTB whispered in my ear. You're bigger and better than the evil out there. Chosen,' he hesitated and after a beat reached to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, he's eyes roaming gently over her face. 'Now stop fretting pumpkin and let's get the show on the road.'

Sasha held his gaze for a moment longer before pushing aside the feelings which threatened to brim over. Time to be tough. She could deal and she'd whoop his ass for messing her around later. She shrugged feigning indifference, and bent to gather a few essentials from the drivers' area. Lorne pretended to do the same, moving around the back of the van looking occupied. He paused for a moment and looked at the dust which littered the sleeping quarters. Inside he was shaking. And for good reason he felt. Not just cowardly old Krevlornswrath now….

As Sasha called to him to get moving he saw again the vision he had taken from the vamp and he shut his eyes.

The epicentre looming large at the core of the destroyed Wolfram and Hart building. A huge mirror sucking away the sun, splitting everything around it into black and white, darkness and 

light. Channelling away the goodness into another dimension, concentrating the bad and forcing it towards earth. The stream of pain which poured from it would never end. The glass flickered darkly and would drain the life from the world until nothing was left. Lorne saw that, he saw that it had to be destroyed and the evil shut off at the source. He also saw a face in the mirror.

But this was where his certainty faltered. He had been so sure when she had sung for him in the alley that she had been chosen for this and he was proud to guide her to it safe in the knowledge that it was meant. He had seen her walk away from the challenge with her aura shining, alive and safe. He had seen her future beyond this day and it was happy and bright. And now he saw the epicentre's fate and the destinies didn't match. He saw the shards fly through the air and the vortex behind the glass contract and vanish, taking with it the person who had ended its reign.

Anything reflected in that mirror would die with it on its destruction.

His hands shook as he pieced together the patchwork of readings. The vampire's mind had warned him of the ruin of the mirror and the death of a hero. Well Sasha would live, he had seen it, and he would make sure of it, she was just a kid and he'd protect her but that meant… that meant that….

The destiny he had read had been his own.

Sasha jumped from the driver seat and stood waiting impatiently in the swirling darkness outside the van.

'Come on!' she called against the wind. Lorne hesitated, his back to her as he pooled his strength to join her.

'I'm going to die,' he whispered.

……..

LA. He barely recognised it. Truth be told he was having a hard enough job keeping his eyes open against the wind. The air was heavy, pressing against him, driving him away, thickly defending the epicentre and providing passage for the pain which gushed towards them.

Sasha fared a little better, slayer strength cutting through the oppressive air. Every once and a while the swirling clouds would part a little and let some semblance of light through to the desecrated streets, but little semblance of normality remained and the city was littered with the charred remains of vehicles, shop fronts and life. The ones who didn't get way. The first victims. Somewhere in this graveyard, her mother lay.

Lorne laid a hand on her shoulder. A gesture of comfort and a necessity to keep them together in the dark. She could feel him leaning heavily on her and even through the gale she could hear his breathing, hard with the effort of movement and the onslaught of pain which came from their target.

'Are we close?' she called.

She felt him nod more than saw him. One hand pointed over her shoulder at the ruined remains of Wolfram and Hart. The tall building loomed darker than black above them, the air around it whirling with creatures, demon or mutant. Lightning wended its way across the sky, lightning and a tear between dimensions through which evil swam. 'There!' he shouted. Sasha wrapped an arm around his waist and half carried him to the structure.

There was a moment's respite as they emerged inside. It was still dark but at least the howl of wind had been muffled by the bricks. Lorne stumbled forward and collapsed in the wreck of his old lobby.

'Never thought I'd be back here,' he panted.

Sasha lifted a battleaxe from her back and circled on the spot, casting her eyes up and over the walls.

'What's the catch?' she breathed.

Lorne looked first at her and the around the building. It was certainly quiet. Destruction had been almost total, so had the darkness moved on, was it too much even for the hell creatures to be so close to its centre?

'We should keep going while we still can,' Lorne suggested, 'There's no telling when something's going to leapt out at us.' He tried to stand, grasping at the burned out frame of an old couch, upended beside him.

'How does it feel…?' Sasha asked watching him, 'The pain?'

'Well it hurts,' he joked and limped towards her. 'I feel like I've done a few dozen rounds with a drokken, heh…' he tried a short laugh and winced, 'But it kinda doesn't matter sweetie, 'cos _que sera sera._' He chuckled at her confusion. 'I'm meant to be here, I'll take what I've got coming.'

Sasha moved to support him and felt the tremors from his flesh touch her. She held him tighter. 'I'm the chosen one here bucko, you're just the guide, everything will be fine.'

'You're even sounding like me now,' Lorne teased.

'Get guiding,' she retorted.

Lorne took a breath and closed his eyes, focussing again on the channel of pain he'd been trying to block since they left the van. Jesus it was intense, if he opened his mind too much he…

'Ah!' his knees buckled and Sasha struggled to hold him firm. Lorne tipped and she drew him upright again. 'I…' he stuttered, 'I let a little too much in that time….'

'Its OK, I've got you…. Where is…' she looked at him and in that second light spilled for a moment from the shattered glass ceiling above. I fell on his face. 'Oh God,' she said.

The blood was running from deep slashes across his cheeks, trickling towards his collar and seeping into the light material. His eyes were shut in concentration.

'Lorne what's happening to you?'

'Pain made manifest,' he panted, 'If I could just….'

'How do we stop it hurting you?'

'I don't think we can. Something here knows you need me to find the centre and its hitting out at me.'

Sasha glared round the building; felt Lorne buck again in her arms. This time a large slash across his chest. He cried out harshly. 'Damn you!' she yelled at the darkness. Lorne was murmuring beside her, familiar words. There was a crash above them and thundered peeled violently in the skies. He trembled suddenly and a light filled her arms. When she looked again he was human.

Confused she let go of his body. He was wiping sweat from his forehead and grimacing, his clothes bloodstained but his face miraculously healed.

'Glamour,' he puffed, 'Gives me a little protection, confuses the hell out of the forces here, I'm less empathic in this form, giving off fewer vibes, whole different aura going for me. Now let's go.'

Sasha just stared at him. 'I thought you hated being that way?'

'I do,' he replied, 'But I've got to do what I can and the way I'm feeling right now I need every bit of help I can muster.' He swung round. 'Over here, I sensed it before I changed… it's in the white room, we'll have to climb the old elevator shaft or something…. Maybe find the elevator carriage and see if the mojo still works…' he looked back over his shoulder, his handsome human features sensitive and disarming and she realised with shock that she felt as though something had been taken from her. She missed him they way he had been, just fleetingly, but it was there. Lorne beckoned her with one arm, holding out his hand. 'Come on kitten, we haven't much time.'

…..

At the centre of Wolfram and Hart lay a mirror, a portal to another dimension. For something so powerful it wasn't that large, no bigger perhaps than the full length Lorne used to keep in his office. He bit back a laugh, wouldn't that be ironic if his décor ended up being the root of all pain?

The White Room Mirror was doubled sided. An oval perched on a platform at the heart of a great hall. The walls shattered, the darkness streamed from one side and out from the top of the mystical building. At the reverse light was sucked from humanity and buried at its core. Every second more joy was drained from the world. The image drove him on.

'What are we heading to?'

'The White Room,' Lorne replied, 'I wasn't a frequenter myself, that was Gunn's area. But it's where the conduit hung out and it'll have some heavy duty magics surrounding it.' They reached the charred door to the elevator. Just as Lorne was wondering how in hell he was going to get it to work, it slid open revealing a brightly lit scarlet interior. 'And there's the magic,' he concluded grimly. 'A red carpet welcome no less.'

They stepped in and he frowned at the panel. Just the one button. No way round this particular destiny. The doors slid shut again with a deceptively soft woosh and the elevator began to play music.

'What the…?' Sasha gasped incredulously.

'Evil always did have a sense of humour,' Lorne said dryly. 'Now there some stuff I should explain, stuff about the white room and stuff about what I've seen in there.'

So at last she was going to find out what the deal was. Sasha drew herself up and focused. This was the thing she had been waiting for, the reason she had been chosen as a slayer.

'The white room isn't actually white… at least not for everyone. What's in there can change. The conduit changed according to who met it. Little girl, black cat, yourself if it really wanted to give you the wiggans. The surroundings can change too. It reads you and gives you what it feels is appropriate, the thing which challenges you most or the thing you fear. I get the impression right now it'll do its best to distract you from your purpose.'

'Which is?'

'There's a mirror in there and that's where the pain is coming from. It's providing a channel from a hell dimension and at the same time it's sucking all the goodness out of ours.'

'So we need to destroy the mirror.'

'Yes.'

'So I hit the thing with my axe.'

'Well if it were that simple we'd be laughing and home for tea. I don't think its going to be that simple.'

'You don't say.' Sasha looked grim. She reached around and withdrew her weapon of choice. A finely crafted battleaxe edged in red metal. Lorne raised his eyebrows. 'Borrowed it from a friend…' she said. He raised them further. 'OK stole it from Buffy.' He shook his head in mock chastisement but as the elevator slowed to a halt and she heard Lorne take a deep breath. She handed him a weapon of his own. A broadsword which he looked at doubtfully. 'So what's the plan?' she asked.

'We see what the white room wants with us first and then we formulate a plan.' But he knew what _his_ plan was. To get there first. To destroy it before it could destroy her.

'Did I ever mention that you're not the best with the planning?' she asked him glancing quickly at his face. He looked at her rapidly and then looked away. 'Is there something you're 

not….' She began but the doors opened and took her voice from her. The White Room lay beyond.

It was filled with demons.

'Holy…' she began and they charged.

…….

Lorne froze. This wasn't the White room this was a hell dimension on earth. As Sasha threw herself into battle he remained frozen in the elevator. The elevator which now appeared to hang suspended from nothing. A desert expanded as far as the eye could see around it, a desert in darkness, the wind whipping up sand and debris, a thousand creatures waging war. There was blood, the smell and sight of it, and screaming. High unearthly screaming as the things which populated the stormy darkness fought for the sake of fighting and for no particular cause. Lorne gripped the door and swallowed. His eyes roaming around him, trying to spot Sasha. A flash of her axe in the red bright light which fell from the elevator told him that she was in the thick of it. But he couldn't move.

And then something came roaring out of the darkness, headed straight for him. Fear gripped his guts and instinct cut in. He dived to one side, the misformed demon hurtling past him and reaching out to the elevator. One hooked hand, if it could be described as a hand, clawing the air to try and grasp the door. Lorne understood.It was trying to escape. The evil in this wasteland was too much.

The shock of movement was enough to jolt Lorne into action. He tried desperately to see where it was he was supposed to be headed. He could hear the thud and gasp of Sasha's fight close by. Focus Lorne. He peered over the heads of the marauding demons but the dusty wind blocked his vision. He had no choice but to the let his empathic abilities do the work. He'd have to drop the glamour and feel the pain to find it. He just hoped he could survive it. Already here in the centre of the apocalypse, beneath his protective magic he could feel it burning.

A vampire charged towards him teeth bared. The sight of apparently human flesh in this tormented world was too tempting, it was ravenous for fresh blood. Without realising he was doing it Lorne swung the sword over his broad shoulders and let the blade slice through the air. There was a sick sound and the vampire, beheaded, dusted. The skirmish had attracted attention though and a dozen demons turned to see the young man by the elevator. He couldn't run there were too many.

'Lorne!' Sasha called to him, her voice high with fear.

He couldn't let her fight on alone he had to get to the mirror and now. Lorne began to mumble his incantation even as the demons closed in in a malicious circle. A shimmer, and the human Lorne vanished. Confused and dazzled by both magic and light the demons halted, looking around for the tall man they'd be prepared to tear limb from limb a moment before. But he was gone, nothing in his place.

Lorne ducked through their bodies, mercifully safely green. He'd never been more thankful for his skin tone or his horns.

The brief exhilaration of escape over, the full pain of the mirror hit him. A driving tearing force of agony which seared through his mind and coursed through ever sinew. He buckled and felt it rip at his insides. Dear God he'd never felt anything like it. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. He was dimly aware of Sasha's blade flashing over head, of the shape of her legs circling, kicking, landing firmly beside him and defending him. How she could spot him in this mass of demon flesh he didn't know, but she was there. He heard a triumphant cry from a beast and saw her stagger a few steps. They'd break her down. There were too many. And then this pain that he was feeling would be felt all over the world. The apocalypse would continue unabated and their chance would be lost. With sudden resolve Lorne lifted his head.

'Do your worst,' he muttered and opened his mind completely.

The vision hit him suddenly, as though he was hurtling through a tunnel he suddenly saw precisely where the mirror lay. In his minds eye the swirling winds parted and channelled a corridor straight to the heart of it all.

'I see you,' he whispered. Scrabbling to his feet he moved through the crowd, unseen. The creatures around him too blindly intent on the bloodshed they'd been enacting since the apocalypse began. Lorne's demon features merging with theirs until he moved unheralded through the mire.

The mirror shone above him, on the pedestal he had seen in the vampire's mind. Broadsword in hand he climbed towards it.

It was still, close to the mirror, the wind dying away and leaving the battle below spread like a minutely detailed painting at his feet. When he looked down he could see Sasha at the centre, the blade whirling and glittering in the dim light as she took out one after another of the endless stream of demons. She moved in slow motion, a perfect image of technique and power.

Lorne turned back to the mirror and lifted the sword to his shoulder. Around him the pain poured from the glass, swamping him, covering him with a heavy air and cloying immobility. He struggled against it, he had to do this. He forced his mind to remain open. If it was doing its worst to him it could do no more. He had to believe that he was bigger than this, that he'd been sent her for a purpose and he would not be defeated. With an almighty cry he slammed the blade into the centre of the glass.

Lorne blasted back through the air and landed yards from the mirror, its surface not so much as scratched. He yelled and fell awkwardly, punishing bruises to his back and arms. He needed a Slayer's strength to do this, but he couldn't let her. She'd be killed. The vision was too strong, whatever tried to destroy this mirror would die. He had to do this for her. He stumbled back to the mirror to try again. And that's when he heard the laughter.

Lorne looked past the pain into the glass. His attractive human self looked back, hands clasped, a wide smile on his face.

'Well hey!' it greeted him, 'Look who's trying to be the hero!'

-- --

Lorne winced at the sight of his human self. It rocked back and forth on its feet and chuckled, the smile never leaving its face.

'Having a little trouble there big guy?' it pointed at the sword. 'Not quite got enough muscle power, well that never was your gig was it? Strength? So why don't you go get your girlfriend and see if she can't do a better job because frankly…' human Lorne traced a fingertip over the glass where the sword had struck, '… this is pathetic.' It raised its eyebrows, 'not even a scratch!'

On the other side of the glass the demon Lorne grit his teeth against the onslaught of pain still falling from the mirror. He was dimly aware of the battle below them and of Sasha fighting for life amongst a horde of demons. He didn't have time for this, this game with himself. He raised the sword again determined to keep trying.

Human Lorne wagged his finger at him. 'Ah ah uh! Not going to happen… remember what your cousins used to call you in Pylea…' Lorne's red eyes flashed with anger and he drove the sword with al his might against the glass. It shimmered once and then resumed its channelling of pain. 'Why that's right!' his reflection mocked, 'You were the puny one weren't you!'

The pain kept coming and now that his glamour was gone, mocking him from the mirror, it was rapidly becoming manifest on his flesh. He felt blood trickle down his face, he was running out of time faster than he had realised. His wounds burned and he was weakening. Lorne cried out in frustration and went to raise the sword again.

'Why don't I make this simpler?' human Lorne said kindly. There was a flash and a bolt of magic jetted from the surface of the mirror grasping the sword and splintering it in Lorne's hand. He felt the pieces slice into his arms as they flew through the air and fell soundless into the battle below. Another wave of pain hit him, his legs buckling as he struggled to stay upright.

'You can't do anything,' human Lorne explained as if to a child. 'It's out of your hands. This isn't your place Lorne… a demon… saving the world from pain,' it giggled, 'no that's her place, Sasha… pretty name for a hero… so why don't you let her make her mark...'

Lorne bent over know, leaning on his knees for support, his breath ragged, raised his head to glare at the reflection.

'You don't want her to die do you?' it asked sugar sweet. 'Aw… that's just adorable… but sadly unavoidable,' its tone became harsh. 'She'll come for you, heroes do that, she'll see you suffering here and she'll come to you and try and save the day.'

'She won't…' Lorne said.

'Because you're a demon? Oh yes, she never was able to see past that was she? You don't belong here… in this dimension… you never did. You're being here pulls things out of line, there's an inbalance, you don't fit. But she liked me… human Lorne… all tall and dark and 

handsome, soft pink flesh and big brown eyes… I fit… who do you think she'd chose Lorne? Because I'm not a gambling man but I'd say the odds were stacked pretty much in my…'

'Stop!' Lorne cried. Raucous laughter from the mirror at his distress. 'She won't come because I won't let her, if she comes here she'll die and I'm not going to let that happen. We finish this now…' he straightened up, rivulets of blood running slowly down his arms, the crimson soaking into his shirt, life draining from him with each second. Human Lorne looked at him with mild curiosity but he thought he saw just a flicker of fear. A flicker of fear meant there was something to be scared of. But what? He had to seize that chance, that small sign of weakness behind the mirror but he couldn't grasp it, he couldn't see, the world was turning grey and he was sure there was no way back to it. They dying Lorne's mind whirled with memories, of Pylean misery, of the companionship of LA, of Vegas Lights… Vegas Lights. Lights… glass… lights… breaking…

'No,' it said as it realised with him. 'No!' He had a moment to lock eyes with his reflection and see the panic there and then he hit the note.

High. Long. Pure. Top C. Everything else stopped. Every eye in the dimension turned to the figure before the mirror. The note drew him up to his full height, his pain momentarily melting with its clarity. From the battle below Sasha looked up too late, saw him there alone and opened her mouth to scream. As the sound poured from her lips she saw the mirror shatter under the spell of his music. A million shards bursting from it frame and surrounding Lorne, raining down on his body with angry force. She heard the rush of a closing vortex and the channel of pain which poured onto the earth was severed with the cutting edge of glass. The darkness was reversed and pulled away again into hell. And then she heard the note end.

Suddenly. Abruptly. Ended. Untapered, just finished, cut off mid stream and lost.

A beat. Silence.

Sasha felt a whimper in her throat, a struggling fledgling of panic. As she looked around the hell dimension she had been fighting in for what felt like hours melted, replaced with a room of dazzling white. The purple tormented sky parted to reveal a clear blue ceiling above her. And everywhere was empty. The room, the sky, the mirror, a few jagged remains of glass remaining caught at its edge. The whimper built within her as she looked then at the floor by the frame. A body.

Her breath choked for a second and the suddenl stillness of the white room laid heavy on her, smothering her, making her feel weak and alone.

'Lorne?' she whispered no more than a croak. 'Lorne…?' questioning, uncertain, afraid, her heart hammering.

'LORNE!' the scream finally erupted from her and she ran towards him. The white room seemed to stretch forever and her legs felt heavy with fear. 'Lorne no!' she skidded the last few feet on her knees collapsing over him, shaking his shoulders and calling out his name. 'Lorne, why? Why didn't you let me do this? Lorne, please wake up, please!' She scooped him into her arms, touched his face, his soft pale skin and ran her hand over his dark hair. He looked unmarked, no blood, no injury, just a young man at peace. A young man. A young human man.

Sasha sat back suddenly thoughtful and wary, his body lifeless and heavy across her lap. She looked again at his features, perfect and undamaged and as she sat she felt the weight lift from her, a sense that he was fading. A glamour. Only a glamour. A dying reflection of magic from the shattered glass. A leftover image from the sacrifice Lorne had made, his other true self lost to the vortex which took with it the pain which threatened to end the world. The man in her arms faded and vanished but she barely registered his loss. Another loss, greater and unseen tore at her now.

'Lorne…? Where did you go?' she asked the empty room, and its echo answered her coldly.

-- --

The vortex spat him cruelly into the hell dimension from which he had saved humanity. He flew from the portal and crashed hard against a rocky outcrop. Around him the demons who had fought Sasha were pouring from the vent in the purple sky above, replaced once more into their rightful realm. And he with them. Demon. He belonged here. He looked back briefly and caught a glimpse of the white room beyond before the image closed and vanished. He had done it. It was over.

He was dying. He could feel it. The brief exhilaration of his success was replaced now with the pain. A different pain to that he had felt in the battle. Not mystical but physical, the results of his wounds and of the mental onslaught he had undergone to get to the mirror. And before that, the pain grief which he had held off for so long. He mourned for them. As the hell dimension swarmed around him he was alone at last in his loss, the blood still seeping from the gashes the glass had rained down on him, his eyes fighting to stay open against the horrors of this new world. He pulled himself into a bundle and hid against the rock praying that nothing would find him and make this ending more painful.

He was finished. He had played his part for the powers that be and his instincts told him that Sasha was alive, that she had survived, and that his vision of her future would ring true. Now it could end, the world held nothing for him now and he could not get back. The chaos and darkness, the violent winds which battered the rocks around him and tore roughly over his skin, these things would end soon too and he would be at peace. He felt fear, but he knew there was no point to fear when what lay ahead was inevitable. So instead he clung to her image from his vision as she walked away in the sunlight through the ruins of LA.

Lorne's eyes fluttered closed and his breathing became shallow as all around him hell raged in its eternal war.

-- --

The sun was brilliant over the wreckage. As Sasha picked her way through it she did not even pause to watch the last of the hell creatures scuttle to the dark safety of the sewers. There would be time enough to clean up LA, but time was something he felt sure Lorne did not have. It was time to swallow her pride and ask for help. She acknowledged she was out of her league, she acknowledged that Buffy and the reformed watchers council held information that could help her, but most of all she acknowledged at last what they had told her from the outset. That good and evil was not black and white and that not all that was branded 'bad' should be condemned. There were grey areas in this world that defied explanation.

But Lorne wasn't a grey area. He was pure. And she cursed herself for ever doubting him, for ever condemning him for his demon heritage, and for ever being so blind to the strength of his heart. He had saved her and countless thousands with her, he was every bit the hero the others in Italy had talked of and she owed it to him to try and find him. They would help her, she'd make them help her. Dead or alive she would bring him back to her where he belonged. She refused to just let go, she trusted that she would see him again. Just as she had trusted him in the alley that night. In her minds eye his face, his laughter and his soft clear voice gave her hope, as he had always given her hope. She felt him with her even now.

Sasha climbed back into their van, breathing in the lingering scent of him and remembering their last moments together there, the touch of him as he had held her before the battle, the warm depths behind his eyes. She felt tears burn and bit them back. It wouldn't be the last time. He'd hold her again and this time she'd hold him back and never let him go.

'I'll find you,' she told the sun and turned on the ignition, the tape springing to life where he had left it.

_If the sky above, should tumble and fall_

_Or the mountains should crumble to the sea,_

_I won't cry, I won't cry,_

_No, I won't be afraid_

_Just as long as you stand, stand by me…_


	2. Chapter 2: The Mirror Cracked

_The vortex spat him cruelly into the hell dimension from which he had saved humanity. He flew from the portal and crashed hard against a rocky outcrop. Around him the demons who had fought Sasha were pouring from the vent in the purple sky above, replaced once more into their rightful realm. And he with them. Demon. He belonged here. He looked back briefly and caught a glimpse of the white room beyond before the image closed and vanished. He had done it. It was over._

_He was dying. He could feel it._

The apocalypse may have ended but the clean up process was far from established and the debris and wreckage was making for slow progress from the city. Sasha had switched off the van radio in an attempt to concentrate on steering the machine through the twisted rubble. It seemed so much harder to be doing it on her own. It should have been simpler, easier now it was daylight, now that she could be fairly certain that nothing was going to leap from the shadows and attack her, but the empty passenger seat to her right was pressing on her with guilty malignancy. She couldn't concentrate. The burst of defiant energy which had filled her just hours before as the battle ended had been replaced now with withering uncertainty and self blame.

If she had made her way to the mirror faster, if she had performed a more streamline attack and taken own those demons only in her path, if she had beaten Lorne to the centre and destroyed the thing before him… all these thoughts and more made it hard to focus on the road and the journey ahead. It could have been her; it should have been her instead. And over and over again the image of his human glamour melting in her arms while the real Lorne had been propelled with the darkness to another world. He might be dead already.

If only the guilt had been that simple. Sasha understood that the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. She was a slayer with a slayer's sense of heroism and Lorne had been a hero. If he had died, he had died saving the world, and a part of her wanted to look back at his actions and just be proud. He knew what lay ahead of him, he must have known better than her. She had sensed that he was keeping something back as they had travelled together to the white room. He was a psychic and must have read his own future and hers. So he knew, he entered that room willingly and accepted his fate. But the feeling wouldn't leave her.

No it wasn't his death alone that made her feel guilty. It was all that had come before. A tickertape of memories tainted by her stupidity. She had fallen for his spell, the spell that made him look human as they travelled and she had been too foolish to realise that she hurt him in the process. He was just a demon right? He didn't feel like people felt. She didn't have to tread carefully where he was concerned, he was lucky she was bothering to work with him at all.

'Idiot!' she chastised herself as she drove. When she thought of how she'd behaved, how her attitude would change when his glamour dissolved and he would submerge himself in the gloom of the back of their van to hide his miserable green truth from her disapproval. Or worse, her indifference. He had seen each time the way her eyes wandered over his attractive human face and he had felt each time she refused to look deeper into him. She hated herself right now; she hated herself and her late realisation of what he truly was. She gripped the steering wheel tight and tried to move on from the destructive power of these bitter and painful thoughts. She had realised in the end. Now she had to make it right. Lorne had lifted 

the blinkers from her eyes and the world shone clear in the newly risen sun; a thousand rainbows of colour, blue, purple, green and… red. Sasha thought of his eyes, of the wide smile and the colour of his lips.

Red.

She allowed her own lips to smile just a little at his memory. His eyes always told her that things would be OK.

Red.

Flashing. Flashing red on the dashboard.

'Shit,' almost out of gas. She scanned the streets for somewhere to fill up praying there was some left at a gas station after the mass exodus from the city. She was almost at city limits now and the debris was less, so she allowed the van to cruise and finally coast into the first fill up point she came across. Sasha automatically lifted a weapon and surveyed the courtyard as she stepped from the vehicle. Were the pumps still working? She'd have to activate them from inside.

Hand tight around the stake she made her way to the kiosk. God only knew what was sheltering inside against the daylight but whatever it was she'd make short work of it. She had to keep moving, get out of the city and back to civilisation. She had to find an airport or at the very least a phone that worked. She had to contact the council and ask for their help, step down from her high horse and concede that they had more knowledge and a good deal more power than her. She'd never liked they way they worked, but she had to admit they'd seen a good few more apocalypses than her.

Sasha kicked open the door and spun into the kiosk. It had been shuttered into darkness, the windows blacked out and obscured with old newspapers and magazines. She glanced at their headlines, announcing the end of the world, blurred photographs of people fleeing in the first days. She'd known it was bad when even the reporters left town and the stories stopped filtering back east from LA. Sasha stepped further into the room and peered at the nearest newspaper. Someone or something had drawn horns and fangs onto a face in a photograph. She looked by the till, a half empty whiskey bottle with the cap unscrewed and left to one side. Yes, something was lurking her alright, she could sense it. She scanned the gloom. A rustle and she was a aware of a soft movement out the back behind the counter.

'Whatever you are you'd better just come on out, 'cos you don't stand a damn chance against me. You know what I am buddy? Do ya? I'm a…'

Spark. Flame. Ember.

'…Bloody Slayer….' The voice said wryly, 'Well I'll be buggered, you girls get everywhere.'

-- --

There was something different.

From the outset hell had raged around him with relentless force. A torrent of wind and noise rained over what passed for a world on this side of the dimensional divide. It scooped up dust 

and flung it hard against his skin, it carved out new landscapes, destroying and reforming rock, shifting shape and form in the darkness. The air burned and the faintest of crimson light smouldered dimly on the jagged horizon. Creatures swooped and crowed on the billowing tide of the storm, content to witness the suffering of beings below, deriving pleasure from the force of the searing gales as they burned patterns into their own hardened skin as they flew. Healing and burning, healing again ready for the next beautiful onslaught. Their cries were high and piercing and the thud of their wings beat heavily above his ears.

But something was different now. How much time had passed? Lorne shifted against the rock against which he had been flung. He hadn't dared to move, hadn't the energy or motivation. The utter certainty of his death had frozen him and for all he knew he could have been there moments or weeks. The constant pain of the dimension rid him of all thought but now something had changed and thought had made its way back to him slowly. Perhaps he wasn't to die after all… perhaps…

It was quiet. That was the difference. And the wind was dropping. At first the cries of the flying beasts above could be heard more sharply against the dying backdrop of the storm and then they too faded. With the tailing off of the wind the heat it generated died too. Dust and grit fell to earth, no longer racing through the air in burning paths and tearing at his skin. The choking air seemed to clear enough for him to breathe more deeply and with a sudden clawing gasp he opened his eyes.

At first he could see nothing. He lay half behind half over the rock and starred blankly at the sky like a broken rag doll. Nothing circled above him, nothing moved. And then a slow creep of light. Not crimson as it had been before but cold and blue. Pale at first, beginning in the centre of the sky where the earth's moon might sit on a clear summer night. So faint at first he thought he might be imagining it but after a few more minutes he could feel it as well as see its edges. It was cold. But not cold like a winter's day or a frost bitten morning. It was cold like evil. It grew steadily and spread across the sky and with its growing light he began to make out the shapes of the demons that had followed him through the portal. The creatures who had helped to bring about the apocalypse on earth and who had been cast back to hell when the mirror had broken. They lined the dusty ground, entranced, unmoving as though paused in battle. Each looked up towards the developing light. Had it hypnotised them? Was it controlling them somehow?

The light grew stronger and with its iciness creeping forward Lorne finally moved, he drew himself up onto the rock and began to rub his limbs. So cold. His eyes roamed over the landscape and over the demons, a landscape he had only seen or imagined in books, a freeze frame of evil glittering under the encroaching path of a new type of hell. He looked down at the ground and saw it sparkle with frost. He touched the rock and found his fingers stuck to it momentarily with the bitter cold. Quickly he withdrew his hand and began to scrabble to his feet on the slippery surfaces. The demons weren't entranced, they were frozen. The sky above him pulsed once, twice… a growing steady rhythm, a contraction of evil.

As Lorne succeeded in gaining his feet the light ahead flashed suddenly brilliant and the powdery silence around him was momentarily shattered by a crackling resonance. A single gush of frozen air and the desert landscape around him turned on its head and formed white banks of ice. To his horror he saw a new form of demon descend in droves from the sky. Spindly creatures in pale blues and lilacs, wide translucent eyes roaming malevolently over the landscape. He began to back away from the winter vortex, uncertain where he would go 

but desperate to get way from these vile beings. Two dropped softly to the snowy ground just yards from him and edged forward to the remains of one frozen half dead demon. With a jagged movement they tore the limbs from the torso and nibbled with small pointed teeth. Lorne felt himself gag. A painful but much needed reminder that he was alive. The bile in his throat burned as the rest of his body grew colder. Every muscle began to shake with cold and fear. He had to move. He had to move now. He had to move as far away from that vortex as…

The sky cracked open with another sudden surge and the demons in front of him turned to watch. They chattered excitedly, a mixture of scattered words and the inarticulate clatter of insect-form communication.

'He comes…'

'… the old one…'

And the sky bore down.

-- --

Sasha instinctively raised the stake to shoulder height.

'Easy niblet,' Spike moved around the counter with a swish of leather coat and a distinctive swagger. 'I'm on your side now remember.' Her eyes adjusting to the dark shop she began to pick out his features, angular beneath his sharply coiffed bleached hair. He flashed a quick smile before slipping the cigarette between his lips and drawing so that the coal glowed orange in the gloom.

'And which side is that?' she asked. 'The last time you showed up at the council it was to tell us all that we were going about this apocalypse thing the wrong way, that Angel had the right idea…'

'Happens he did, didn't turn out great I admit but all this lying around in Italy waiting for 'developments'' he gestured the quotation marks mockingly before dismissing the whole idea with a grimace, 'wasn't for me love, too much sun for starters. Disappointing; the whole business,' he drew himself up and rocked on his heels, snorting out a jet of smoke, 'I know how it looked, what Angel did, but he wasn't taking it lightly, at the end of the day you had to trust the guy, even me… and Buffy… well she's not the Buffy I knew, oh no, she'd have helped him in a jiffy.. gone straight to the hellmouth and kicked its multiple asses.' He suddenly mimed a couple of jabs in Sasha's direction. She didn't flinch.

'So what _are_ you doing here?' she asked instead.

Spike dropped his fists. 'Same as you love, heading for the big nasty, except it seems to have buggered off before I could get there…' he grabbed the chair from behind the counter and spun it so that when he slumped down on it he was leaning on its back. 'I fought for a good long while when it started, watched Wes and Gunn cop it and then thought I could do with a bit of back up. Headed to Italy…'

'Where you told us all where to go…'

'Where I told you all where to go…' he repeated, 'well her majesty queen Buffy wasn't very forthcoming with the whole army of slayers thing. Oh no… it's fine when it's her hellmouth that needs an army… OK when she needs a champion to where a big old dangly bit and burn up in hell… but when that champion comes back from the grave and tries to stop apocalypse number 2… needing a bit of backup you know… oh no couldn't possibly Spike… its not appropriate Spike... we don't know what we're up against yet…' he gesticulated in frustration, 'it's bloody evil innit! It's the same thing we're up against every time but I think this particular slayer's been in the job too long… getting a bit battle weary.' Spike stopped and starred at Sasha, raising one scarred eyebrow as he did.

'So what brings you here…' he asked, 'Not her orders anyway.'

'No.'

He looked at her in silence.

'Got us a rebel have we?'

'Not exactly, but I did get sick of waiting. There was a mission and that lot lost the way. I don't know if Angel got it right but I don't think Buffy did either. I don't care if I can't win the whole war or even one battle but I had to do something…My mother died here.'

'It's amazing what we would do for our mums…' Spike said. 'No really,' he said catching her incredulous look, 'I loved my mum, 'til I ate her anyway…'

'Right well…' Sasha resumed, 'I was making my way round the country here kicking some vampire ass on my way…' she glared at him.

'Yup, good on you,' he said with innocent enthusiasm, 'kicked many a vampire bum myself.'

'… when I got detoured. I didn't want to come to LA… well I did but I was scared.. I was working up to it you know, and then I met this guy and he made me realise I had something to offer, that I could make a difference and he made me come here.'

'Oh yeah? Some sort of guide was he?'

'It was Lorne.'

Spike's friendly manner suddenly became cold. He held her gaze hard. 'Lorne?' he said slowly, 'Lorne's alive?'

'Yes….at least… I think he might still be.'

Spike ignored her last quiet statement and leaning over the back of the chair he frowned. 'Lorne came back to LA? Doesn't make sense… he wanted well out of it.'

'He insisted, he said he'd had some sort of vision, he read me, said he could see where all this evil stemmed from and he knew how to stop it. I think it was the Powers that Be, they were channelling through him and I don't know why, it was crazy, he was a demon damn it but I 

trusted him and…'

'Yeah he has that effect,' Spike smiled faintly, 'he's alright is Lorne, bit colourful, drinks like a fish, but he's a good sort. You were right to trust him.'

'I didn't at first I was an idiot. But I should have. He got us there, and the whole thing was hurting him so badly... he could feel it all you know…?'

'Empath... rough gig..' Spike conceded…' I mean I could feel it all… tweaked my vamp senses all that big bad… he must have had it hard. Wait a minute!' Spike looked up at her with realisation, 'you were on your way in there to fight the fight you were on your way out? He got you there? To the centre?'

'Yes, there was this mirror in the law firm and…'

'You guys stopped it?!' Spike was off the chair and advancing on her, 'you and Lorne? You're the reason the sun's back?'

'Well…'

'Bloody hell! Wait 'til Angel hears this! That'll piss him right off… not that he doesn't deserve that; I mean I thought it was pretty low making Lorne do that thing… Lorne didn't have that sort of evil in him… but check it out…Lorne saved the world?!'

Sasha hesitated, 'Yeah he really did.'

'Where the hell is he?' Spike even went so far as to look round the room.

'He's… I don't know.'

Spike flashed a puzzled look, 'You don't know? Big guy, green, little red horns can't miss him?'

'There was a mirror in Wolfram and Hart, 'Sasha continued her story, 'and he smashed it and the darkness was sucked away back into another dimension…'

'Saving the world, right, yeah we got that niblet…'

'He went with it,' she said. 'He's on the other side of the mirror and that's why I was heading out of LA, I need to find a way to get him out,' her words started rushing forward riddled with guilt and unhappiness and anger, 'I've got to contact the council and I couldn't from inside the city so I was driving and driving trying to find a phone or something, we need to combine forces I'm out of my depth here, I don't know jack about dimensions and stuff and I figured someone would be able to help…'

In the middle of her outpouring she caught Spike's eye. He was staring at her unblinking, half perched on the counter, his shoulders braced and the muscles in his jaw twitching ominously. She fell silent.

'Lorne smashed the mirror,' he said in summary, a level cold voice 'he smashed it, not you 

with your slayer power, he did it.'

'Yes.'

'And then all the bad got sucked out of the world and went back to where it came from?'

'Yes.'

'And where do you reckon that was?'

'I… I'm not sure…'

'Well let me tell you shall I… 'cos I know a thing or two about dimensions, been to a couple over the centuries, and they're not nice places. Bad stuff generally… comes from bad places…'

'Is he dead? I'm so scared he died when he went through that mirror,' Sasha felt her eyes burn. She'd been OK on her own, she'd held it together but now she was talking, it was all being made real by saying the words out loud.

'Oh he's not dead. Doesn't work like that,' Spike said, 'if he was sucked through that mirror he's something worse than dead. You left him in hell niblet… 'cos that's what happens when a champion makes a sacrifice… happened to Angel… happened to me… didn't happen to Buffy but then she's not part demon is she…but the demon kind... we end up in hell. It's the way of things… so that's where he is… yeah… some hell dimension with all the beasties you sent back there.'

Sasha was staring aimlessly around the floor trying to comprehend what Spike was saying. To have it confirmed to her just made it too painful. She had guessed wherever Lorne was it wouldn't be good but to have it spelled out was too much. It was her fault. Spike was right it was all her fault. He was watching her she could feel it. He probably hated her… Lorne had been his friend right? And she had let him go to hell because she hadn't made it to the mirror first.

'What do we do?' she said absently, 'what do we do?'

He looked at her a moment longer. God she was young. Spike sighed. Slayers… he always had to get tangled up with slayers… silly girls with more power than sense but big hearts that meant well and a ton of guilt to boot. What the heck there was always a way around these things. It'd give him something to do now that the big bad had been defeated. Wasn't quite what he had been expecting but… He jumped from the counter and let his mood lift. A new challenge then.

'Well here's a plan… a mission if you want to use the word,' Spike said cheerily, 'I vote we try and get him out.'

Spike was moving round the room clearing space at the centre, shoving stands until recently filled with chips and candy to one side so that the hard floor was exposed. Sasha felt like she was on a go slow, all the adrenaline in her body was peaking and troughing, she was exhausted and scared at the same time, guilty, desperate and confused. She watched numbly 

while Spike extracted a small brown paper bag from his trenchcoat and gestured her to join him. Slowly he began to pour a circle of coloured sand around them. It was almost complete when Sasha woke up and protested.

'Wait what are you doing?!'

'Well as much as I don't like the new council I reckon you've got a point… they've got resources... seers and witches and stuff… they might have a handle on this business… so I figure… we go to Italy.'

'What?'

'Little trick I picked up…' he grinned and let the last of the sand fall to form a compete circle around their feet. She felt his hand tighten over hers, heard a rush of wind and saw the light shift and bend around her. 'Welcome to the Shadow Paths,' Spike called, 'We'll be in Italy in a …'

-- --

The world around him shuddered with the last of the brewing sky's great contractions. It had arrived at last. A dozen millennia in waiting and the chance had finally come. The Old One had reclaimed his icy dimension and from here he could reclaim them all. As he fell from the sky his demons dropped to their knees, faithful minions all and he watch in satisfaction as his sheath of frozen spread over hell and dampened all its fire. Just a beginning, time yet to gain a little strength before breaking through… to the next step.

Lorne stumbled, steadied himself and tried to carry on. With the last great roar from the skies he had felt evil flood the realm. It was as powerful as the pain he had encountered in Wolfram and Hart before he had finally smashed the mirror. He took a few deep breaths, leaning on all fours, his life leaving him in small white bursts, crystallising in the cold. He was scrambling up the icy embankment which until minutes ago had been hard bare rock. He was sure he could see a patch of darkness half way up that might offer him somewhere to hide. A cave or an outcrop under which he could shelter.

Behind him an army was mounting. More and more of those creatures had fallen from the sky and it had grown colder by the second. He tripped and fell hard. The ice scraping his skin and drawing rich blood, sharply red against the blanket of whites and chilly blues. His hands were battered and bleeding, what clothes that had survived his blast through the vortex were flimsy and ripped. The freezing conditions penetrated deeply until he was sure his bones were frozen to the core, brittle with ice, he might snap at any moment. What good would it do him? Even if he found a hiding place it would only be a matter of time before something found him or before he froze to death or faded away. But there was a powerful instinct within Lorne and he couldn't give up just yet. Maybe he was a hero after all?

A bitter short laugh left him.

Or maybe he just wasn't ready to die.

'… jiffy.'Spike finished. Sasha staggered against him and clutched at her head, it was spinning like a top and she felt nauseous. As fast as it had begun the whooshing and swirling had stopped. Now she was just dimly aware of a warm room, an open fire and the lingering smell of musty books. Oh, and a female voice chastising her travelling companion.

'Spike what the hell do you think you're doing! You know people of the un-undead variety get sick when to take them on the paths!'

Sasha tried to place the voice, it was coming from… was that a couch? A leather couch?

'Yeah sorry about that Red, bit of an emergency,'

Willow. She'd always got on with Willow. A total sceptic when it came to magic, Sasha could appreciate Willow's good nature and wide eyed innocence and respect her quiet strength. When they'd first met it had been hard to believe she'd gone all dark and evil and nearly destroyed the world. She just looked too cute. Kind of fluffy like a bunny. She turned towards her groggily and felt a hand close over her arm.

'An emergency, I bet,' Willow guided Sasha onto a nearby chair where her head continued to spin more gently. 'I've just heard from the seers, and there's trouble a brewing again... you know... just to be different.'

'Yeah well whatever your new trouble is I'm not interested 'cos I've got me a little project of my own. Little rescue mission and I need a bit of advice.' Spike flung himself over an armchair and kicked back nonchalantly. 'This one here,' he pointed at Sasha, 'has been busy saving the world over at hellmouth central, note without much or _any_ help from you lot,'

'I know,' Willow smiled at her, big green eyes wide and proud. 'The seers told me that too, you did amazing, bigger than amazing, I mean that was your first apocalypse right? We should have a party or something? And cake? There has to be cake right?'

'Yeah well what you're missing red is the minor factor that she didn't do it alone. She did it without you or queen Buffy which is all the better in my opinion… but she didn't do it alone…'

'Oh,' Willow said, 'You trying to tell us you had a hand in it… well that's great Spike but when are you going to learn we're never going to be impressed, its good that you're less with the evil these days and big with the helping but you don't get a treat every time to lend a hand…' she saw Spike sigh at her, 'and you don't mean you do you?' she continued.

'No. Not me.'

'Oh.' Puzzled Willow. 'She had help? Seers didn't mention that.' She pouted.

'Yeah well you can't get the seers these days can you? Now if I could get to the point, her little helper was a certain green demon type, cute little red horns, sings a nice showtune...'

'Lorne?' Willow squeaked. Her eyebrows shot up and her smile threatened to engulf the room, 'Lorne helped save the world?'

'Lorne _saved_ the world,' Sasha corrected from her chair.

'Yeah and as a result he's stuck on the other side of a bloody great portal in a nasty hell dimension… so I thought we could pool our resources, civilised like and…'

Willow's face had fallen. 'He's on the other side of the mirror?' she said softly. Something in her tone struck fear into Sasha.

'Yeah… how did you know that?' Spike queried. 'No don't tell me the seers…'

'The seers saw the mirror destroyed; they saw the portal shut…'

'Well then they can tell us how to open it up again and get him out, it's only fair.'

'It can't be reopened Spike,' Willow said seriously. 'That's what they were warning me about. We have to seal it forever. The big evil that's brewing? It's brewing on the other side and its going to find a way through. It's a weakness in the interdimensional divides and it knows it. We have to use our magics to close the mirrors channels forever, what Sasha… and Lorne… managed to do is only temporary. Very temporary in fact, we're working flat out to find a way to stop this before it breaks through.'

Sasha's head was clearing, a fog lifted by panic. 'No he destroyed it, its over!'

Willow looked at her sympathetically. 'I wish it was. But it's not. We've still work to do and I'm sorry but… we can't afford to mess with this… we need to act fast and seal the portal forever. There's something on the other side more powerful than anything we've dealt with before….'

Sasha had ceased to listen to the explanation, she could sense the only truth she needed from Willow… the council had one aim and Sasha had another. They would not go back for Lorne… the good of the many outweighed the good of the few.

'You're going to leave him there aren't you?' she said.

Willow paused. 'He made a sacrifice. He's given us the chance... the time... to discover how to end this once and for all, we owe him so much but…'

'You don't owe him his life,' Sasha retorted bitterly, 'Is that what you're saying.?'

'It's not that simple…He'd understand,'

'Would he? Knew him well did you?' she said, fire rising in her belly.

'No… I just... I know it's hard… but the seers…'

'Screw the seers… I won't let you leave him there! When are you closing this portal? How long have we got?'

'I…' and Willow hesitated. She looked at the girl in front of her and saw traces of the same passion she had seen so often in Buffy. It tugged at her memories. That fierce loyalty. Times had changed and the battles had grown bigger and more difficult but something in Sasha reminded her of what things had been like years ago back in Sunnydale. Buffy would always put her friends first… it was a Slayer thing.

'I can get Lorne and I can stop this thing from spreading, there must be time,' Sasha said.

'There are a few days before the final spells are cast.' Willow said.

'Fine,' Sasha said, swallowing hard, 'Then we find a way.'

Willow said nothing.

'_I'll_ find way then,' Sasha corrected.

'I'm in,' Spike contributed from his armchair.

'You know how risky this is,' Willow said, 'these are huge primeval forces you're messing with, I can only advise you to…'

'If I don't try he'll die,' Sasha said.

'If you try and fail lots of people might die,' Willow replied calmly.

Sasha rose from the couch still unsteady. She braced herself against it for a second and looked hard into Willow's eyes. 'Then I won't fail,' she said.

There was a beat.

'Hear hear!' Spike chimed in.

It was dark and he was underground, somewhere deep where the sarcophagi piled high over each other. A tunnel that led to the centre of the earth and far beyond where the old ones lay waiting, frozen dormant in their coffins from a time long past. The air smelled of rich soil and moisture and as he leaned over the flimsy bridge he saw dust and dirt fall from between the planks he stood on and vanish into the pit below. This is where He began and where something precious rested.

With difficulty he tried to raise his eyes, but it was like a weight was strung around his neck and hauling his heavy head down to look into the emptiness of a graveyard of gods. But he had to look up. If he looked up then the rest of his body would follow and he could make his way out of here and warn the others. He saw his hands grip a railing. The perfect detail of the backs of his hands. He focused hard on them willing them to move, to make their way along the rail, to pull the rest of him with them. But they were so stiff, he couldn't unlatch his fingers. What was keeping him here in this darkness?

And then the voice came faintly. 'You are my sunshine… my only sunshine...'

Lorne looked around sharply trying to place it. His eyes ran up and down the towers of sarcophagi. He spun about, desperately hunting for the singer.

'…You make me happy when skies are blue…'

He spun again and found Fred directly in front of him, pale and beautiful. He had a second to stammer her name and then...

'Stop him. He's coming. Don't let him break through.'

Lorne woke in the cave to the sound of drums and the ache of his frozen limbs.

-- --

This time her legs went from under her as they landed. Not that Spike cared particularly he paused for exactly half a second to see her land on her ass and then popped behind the gas station counter to stock up on cigarettes and refill his lighter.

'Figured I'd grab a few freebies, might be a bit of a journey ahead.'

'Jeez spike,' Sasha stood and brushed down her pants. 'Why bring us here can't those shadow thingies pop us back to Wolfram and Hart… it took hours to get to this lousy gas station and its going to take hours to get back.'

'Relax… we'll get there, the boogedy boogedies will be hiding out, it's still light we'll just drive back through, park up at the lawyers' place and go and save your mate.'

'Flaw. In. Plan.' She said.

'What's that then?'

'Daylight? Won't you explode and burn?'

Spike looked at the chinks of light coming through the covered up windows. 'We'll vamp proof the van.'

'Vamp proof it?'

'Yeah… few more newspapers, bit of tape, sorted.' He lit a cigarette, 'you telling me you didn't demon proof the Lornemobile when you guys were travelling? Or did you just drive around with him in the front and claim he was in fancy dress every time you stopped for gas?'

Sasha flinched.

'Touchy.' Spike looked at her curiously.

'We didn't' do anything to the van he used magic to disguise himself.'

'Oh yeah? Never thought of that. Must be some magic I could use… if Angel hadn't gone all hero and smashed that ring I'd be sunbathing by now… what magic then? Anti green magic?' he chuckled.

'He made himself human.' Sasha gathered some newspapers slowly in her arms. 'So we could take turns driving and not be stopped. He hated it.'

'Human?' Spike guffawed, 'Bloody hell that must have been a sight!'

'He looked…' and she stopped. 'It doesn't matter how he looked it was just something he had to do OK. You ready?' Sasha snapped, 'Cos I'm going to go and tape up the van and then I suggest we get moving before neither of us sees Lorne again human or otherwise.'

Spike motioned compliance and loitered by the window to watch her make her way to their vehicle. She made fast work of the taping, covering the inside of the windshield and tearing a hole for a view. Spike inhaled his last drag and squashed the butt under one heavy booted heel, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

'Love's bitch…' he mumbled.

-- --

'Fred?' his voice was rough. Had he dreamt her? She had seemed so utterly solid. His vision was blurry and he felt as though his eyes had frozen shut. He'd probably only been out a few minutes but it was enough to slow his body down. Painfully he pushed himself forward, crawling to the opening of the cave and the sound of the drums which had woken him. As he looked down the mountainside in inhaled with horror. The pale blue demons spread before him in a massive circle, lines of them, like spokes in a wheel, equipped with drums, beating a primitive rhythm in the valley below. But it was what lay at the centre of the circle that shocked him most. A tall figure holding court, its features too far away to distinguish, but the object behind it was familiar enough and the creatures which scrabbled over its surface like insects were bent on repair.

The mirror. With magics they were healing the mirror and the portal would open again.

He could cry. The energy was sapping out of him while his mind cursed at him to do something to stop this. But what could he do? Alone and broken in this dimension, pitted against an army of demons and their leader. How was it they had described him. 'The Old One.' Lorne had heard the term before now and it had meant badness. And Fred. Fred in his dream. It could only mean one thing. Another ancient had escaped from its sarcophagus, another Illyria unleashed on the universe, perhaps worse than her. There was no way of telling. He bit into his lip, a deeper shade of purple in the cold. He tried to think but even with this new fear his body felt sluggish and his skin tingled with frost.

Sasha would find a way. Someone back home would know what to do. She'd tell someone what they did and something… he shook his head trying to clear the blur of thoughts. How would they know. If that thing reopened it would take the world by surprise and the whole hellish thing would begin again.

'I have to… do… something…' he struggled, but the waves of pain from the dimension around him were beating him back weakening him. If he could just work out what the demons were doing, if he could get some sort of a handle on what was happening.

As he watched the tall figure by the mirror called for silence and the drums died. Lorne pulled himself by his fingertips to lean across the precipice and look further into the valley. The figure wore a silver-blue robe which washed around his ankles as he turned towards the mirror, glinting blue in the eerie light. Its shattered surface sparkled malevolently and refracted the broken image of the hooded thing in front of it. A slow chant began among the demons and the clear high tones of their leader could be heard above them all, curiously resonant in the bleak winter wilderness he had created.

'In the name of The Old One, Novica God of the Winter Torment, reform…'

The demons echoed him.

'Seek out from our number the strength you need… reform…'

The demon's responding murmur rumbled across the valley.

'Seek thee thy bless'd one and take of his being…'

The demons feel to their knees again. Lorne glanced up and the sky and saw that the clouds had once again begun to swirl. The air seemed too thick to breathe and the magic lay heavy in each breath. He was drowning in the power which flooded from the mirror and its keeper. He felt his skin prick with sweat although his body was like ice. The valley rumbled again and he felt the vibrations pass upward through the mountain so that his flesh throbbed with its pulse.

Below him the master of ceremonies finished.

'Reform!'

With a sudden crack a bolt of shattered light flew from the mirror's surface. It spun towards the mountain in which Lorne was sheltering and like a knife drove hard through his chest, paralysing him at the precipice. He was helpless as he watched the crowd below turn to face him, a sea of blue demons parting as the beam of light seared through them. He could feel them getting closer and he struggled weakly in the strange bindings from the mirror. After a few moments he could hear them scrambling up the mountainside and he closed his eyes tight. He didn't want to see them or what they might do to him. He felt long fingers curl around his wrists, the touch freezing and dry, and he stifled a cry. With a jerk the mirror released him to their clutches and he was propelled down the mountainside, still hardly daring to look. He could hear the excited chatter grow around him and he sensed a growing sense of wonder and curiosity as he was dragged to the centre of the crowd. With a final push he was flung down before the mirror and the thing in front of it. Its robes swished smoothly towards him.

A demon to one side of him scuttered backward away from its master and Lorne tried to bury himself inside his mind, his memories. If he was going to die he wanted to die with a memory not in this brutal hell dimension.

'I am Novica,' the voice above him spoke, 'The Old King of the winter dimensions and soon to rule earth. And you are chosen.' Its voice was light and toyed with him pleasingly.

Lorne became aware of the taste of copper blood in his mouth, he had chewed hard on his lip until he bled, the cry of anguish and fear threatening to burgeon up and choke him.

'You will embrace your destiny and bind your energies to the mirror, empath,' it went on, 'and you will look at me,' the voice said mockingly, 'Because you created me…'

Lorne opened his eyes and stared hard at the ground before him. He heard Novica laugh softly. And then a hand reached down and cupped Lorne's chin, raising his face to look deep into the Old One's eyes. Lorne tried to scream but the sound was taken from him, a finger placed hard over his lips, becoming wet with his blood.

'I had so hoped it would be you,' Novica went on, 'I had hoped that you would be pulled through by the mirror, because none of these creatures can help me, they haven't got what it takes.' He cocked his head and looked deep into Lorne's eyes. 'You have. It's what makes you so unusual, even on earth, your kind are unclean and yet... you are different. I would have been trapped here forever even if all hell had been sucked through the portal to earth and the apocalypse had never been halted. But your interference, demon, has given me this opportunity. It bought you here… it brought to me the one thing I need to break this spell and leave this dimension… your soul.'

A slow tear trickled from Lorne's eyes and Novica caught it with his hand as it moved across his cheek.

'Yours is the only soul in this dimension. And the only thing which can heal the mirror.'

Novica looked up at his demon army and smiled broadly. 'I have so much to be grateful for,' he mused, 'You end wolfram and hart's apocalypse for me, leaving my army free to reign on earth… you bring me your soul to drain and feed the mirror you shattered and break my binding spell at last… and last but not least…' Novica looked down at him and winked cruelly, 'you bring me this nifty glamour.' He stretched out his arms and inspected them before flipping back the silver blue hood, 'You had taste when you picked a human face for yourself Lorne,' he said, 'I can't question that at all,' he inspected his nails nonchalantly, 'but I bet you never thought you'd watch yourself end the world as you know it… did you?' Lorne slumped forward unable to look at him any longer and felt the darkness engulf him as his smooth human voice commanded, 'Prepare him!'

-- --


	3. Chapter 3: The Devourer of Souls

'_Lorne?' Sasha pulled herself over the frozen rock towards him. The dimension around her was fading quickly into silence as the demon army poured after its master. Lorne lay motionless some feet from the shattered mirror. She crawled on trying to reach him, her limbs heavy and her heart empty. Did souls heal she wondered, or had Novica taken so much of her essence that she would die here? But what about him? Had she failed him again? With a heavy breath she dragged herself the last few inches to Lorne's body, grasping it and turning him from where he lay face down in the ice. 'Lorne? Can you hear me? Lorne…? Oh God…'_

_The first of her tears fell and froze like a crystal on the ground beside his still and peaceful face._

Rapturous applause from the regulars. He beamed around the room taking in one demon face after the next, smiles wide, a few smiles in odd places, a few making a weird kind of grimace that he knew was the equivalent of a smile. At a table near the front he could see the angel investigations team. Angel himself looking uncomfortable. Dear God Lorne hoped he wasn't going to sing. There was Cordelia, all shiny dark hair and sparkling eyes. A bit tipsy, laughing hard and teasing Gunn for his choice of song. He was up next wasn't he? But wait Lorne didn't need to read his destiny, it was already written. And Wesley didn't want to sing, but that was ok too because they all knew the score. Lorne stepped down from the stage the spotlight following him through Caritas. He was looking for someone. Someone had to sing, and it wasn't any of these guys, they'd already been on stage and they didn't hold the answers. He got to the bar and staring mixing his signature drink without thinking, still peering round the busy club.

'I'm down here…' came a whisper.

Lorne jumped and looked under the bar.

'Fredikins what are you doing under there?' he cried.

Fred giggled nervously. She was crossed legged, her glasses slipping down her nose and her hair falling from its clip in tendrils. When she spoke her accent was thick and homely.

'I like it here, it's safe and I have tacos. You want one?' she extended a bare arm from the shadow and grinned at him, waving the taco under his nose. Lorne crouched down to her and looked past under the bar where a cave stretched coldly into darkness.

'Honey I don't know it's not very nice under here, why don't you come on out and play with the others. You can bring the tacos and I'll mix you a nice warming drink,' he smiled warmly.

'Oh no I belong here, there's a formula,' she nodded at one wall where Lorne could see green pen scribbles. He frowned.

'I can't read it.'

'No you have to read something different.' Fred giggled, 'I read formulas and you read souls, but if you don't hurry you'll miss them. There's a rush on them at the mall.'

Lorne looked confused. Behind her the cave twisted and morphed, a glimpse of sarcophagi 

and then darkness again. It was cold. He didn't want her to get cold. 'Why don't you come on out and sing for me then sweetie?' he tried.

'Oh that's OK,' she shook her head nervously, 'It's not my turn.'

The music was starting up on the stage again. He glanced up over the bar. He had to announce the next act but he didn't know who they were.

'You wait there cupcake,' he said 'There's something I have to do.'

Fred smiled through a mouthful of taco. 'I ain't going nowhere.'

The spotlight left Lorne and flew up to the stage. There was a ripple of polite applause and the opening bars played. Lorne was pushing through the crowd trying to stop the performance. He hadn't announced it, it wasn't time yet. And that tune, that wasn't right.

'Hey wait you can't sing that song it's Fred's!' he called.

Illyria looked up from the stool by the karaoke machine.

'The shell has no need for music, it's my destiny which matters.' She opened her mouth and sang her voice stilted and low, rich with her peculiar monotone which chilled the listeners.

'_Crazy ... I'm crazy for feelin' so lonely  
I'm crazy ... crazy for feelin' so blue  
I knew you'd love me as long as you wanted,  
And then someday, you'd leave me for somebody new…'_

The vision rushed at him as through a tunnel of darkness, the pale blue of Illyria's eyes holding his and searing through him. A dozen images, an army marching through the destroyed Wolfram and Hart building, the mirror at its centre radiating with darkness, familiar faces in battle, Willow, Spike, fighting hard as demon after demon rushed through the portal, blood, fear and at the core of it all a robed figure of silver and blue, hands clasped, triumph sparkling in his deep brown eyes. As though on film Novica turned and smiled at Lorne, now by the mirror, now on the stage at Caritas, the perfect host. He picked up where Illyria faltered his clear voice echoing and the music dead.

'_You're crazy for tryin', and crazy for cryin'  
And I'm crazy for lovin' you…'_

'You've been a lovely audience,' he said to the empty room.

-- --

They were running for their lives. In the lobby of the destroyed Wolfram and Hart building Spike, Willow and Fred had the tiniest of head starts on the blue army which was sweeping down through the broken floors and elevator shafts. The foundations trembled with the force of them and the shattered magic which spilled from the mirror's vortex. They had heard Novica break through, saw him step through the glass with a smile and leap nimbly from the 

podium. He worked the floor, striding happily up and down and beaming at his demons. He flicked his robes back and forth playfully and giggled with joy. He had waited eons for this release and now he was spoiled for choice. Where to start? How much fun would this be? A city laid out before him already half wrecked by an aborted apocalypse. He could smell the fear and death in the air already and all he had to do was cash in. He twiddled the glowing talisman around his neck and grinned in anticipation.

And then he had spotted them stumbling backwards from the white room certain that they were outnumbered, a witch, a vampire and a shell.

'Oo,' he said clapping his hands, 'goodies!' and the army had turned it's focus on them at Novica's psychic command.

'We're not going to make it out of here!' Willow was struggling with a force field, moving with them as they ran, a flickering sphere of powerful gold magic. Spike had one arm around Fred's body supporting her and the other beating back anything that tried to pierce the spell.

'Can't you magic us out?' he yelled at her.

'It's dangerous,' Willow panted, 'teleportation with all of us, what if we come out jumbled?'

'I'd rather come out jumbled than not at all, get us out of here!'

Willow dropped her power from the force field spell and grabbed Spike and Fred's hands. 'Evacuo,' she said. As the magic took effect and the three hurtled to their destination Spike caught a final glimpse of Novica's entrance to the lobby and gave him the finger before vanishing from view.

Novica gaped at him in outrage. 'Cheeky goodies! Did you see that?' he grabbed a nearby demon, 'They just left without saying and made a…a… sign,' he flapped his arms, 'That is just so rude! Dontcha think?'

The demon looked at him blankly.

'Oh get outta here,' Novica said in despair, releasing his grip and dismissing him. 'I guess I'll just have to find me another soul to nibble on.' He paused, 'Do they do take out in LA since the apocalypse?'

-- --

'Illyria,' it was barely a whisper, so faint she couldn't be sure she had heard it. Sasha held her breath and listened where she lay, eyes tight shut and her cheek resting on his chest. After her initial panic she had dropped her head to his body and held him tight only to realise he was both warm and alive. Her tears had been different then switching from grief to joy and mingled with a healthy dose of fear. But she was exhausted after Novica had violated her soul and she had quickly collapsed, wrapping herself around him in the hope that their bodies would warm each other in the icy dimension. Now he was stirring, or was he?

'Illyria,' there it was again. 'That's not your tune…' Sasha slowly raised her head, pushing herself upon frozen forearms, the ground sharp and cold on her palms.

'Lorne?' she tried.

His face turned in his sleep, frowning deeply with something like pain. She had no idea what was left of him, how much damage Novica had done, if any of her old Lorne remained or if his soul had been destroyed entirely. She just wanted him to wake up. Cautiously she reached out and touched his shoulder.

'Lorne?'

He moved so quickly she lost her balance as he forced her to the ground, red eyes flashing in the winter gloom of the dimension. He let out a low growl and held her fast, his hands and thighs pinning her by the wrists and waist. She struggled briefly and then let her muscles lie flaccid as he leaned forward, his breath warm on her face and a look of primitive intensity in his eyes.

'Lorne,' she felt his gaze wander over her face and neck, his tongue darting between his teeth, brilliant white against dark red lips, he pushed against her strongly, 'Lorne!' her concern turned to panic, 'It's me, its Sasha,'

Something in his eyes cleared. He blinked and his expression lightened.

'Well hey,' he said nervously, 'I um… I guess I was having a bad dream or something,' she looked up at him confused, his grip was as tight as ever. At the same second he seemed to realise and looked at her wrist. 'Oops,' he said, 'I don't know why I did that it was… er… kinda instinctive, self defence….what with being here with all these hell beasties threatening to eat me or something, you know how it is…' he let go of her wrists and sat backward suddenly looking around him, 'where did all the hell beasties go?' he asked.

Sasha wriggled under his weight and he remembered to move, swinging himself to one side and sitting beside her.

'Earth,' she said as she dusted her self down. Lorne's eyes widened.

'Earth?' he looked back at the mirror, standing dormant and empty in the centre of the valley.

'Yup, Novica sucked out your soul and took his army to earth.'

'He sucked… out… my soul…' Lorne looked floored and then suddenly perked up, 'Did he get all of it? Wow, I didn't even know I had one being 'unclean' and all… demony' he explained looking at Sasha, 'There's one for the record eh? All that time you were like 'oh I don't know if I can work with you you're a demon' and I had my very own soul.'

Sasha looked briefly hurt and Lorne worked quickly to cover it, wincing, 'I'm sorry that sort of fell out, but it explains a lot right? Music and the destinies I read that could all be linked… and I guess it explains the kingsized bangeroo in my head right now,' another nervous laugh, 'and maybe other more recent things,' his eyes dropped to her body and he looked embarrassed, 'no telling what a guy might do without a soul… look at Angel... but anyway… you're here because…?'

'I'm not sure, it all got crazy. I wasn't supposed to come here, there's this whole deal where Novica eats a soul and gets freed from this dimension so I was told not to go through the mirror or I'd just provide him with another happy meal and speed up the process but then Illyria showed up in the mirror and I ended up…'

'She was here, she helped me,' Lorne said wonderingly his mood changing rapidly once more, 'Illyria helped me. She was trying to keep me alive, trying to save some part of me from Novica to prevent him getting through, she asked me what I needed and I needed… ' Lorne fell suddenly quiet.

Sasha was looking at him intently and for a second he looked away into the distance unable to meet her eyes.

'Well it doesn't matter what brought you here sweetiepie,' he said suddenly, 'You're here now and it looks like we got ourselves a situation. That mirror looks kind of dead, portal wise and this place just looks empty and hey is it me or is it getting… wetter?'

He pulled a face and Lorne looked down at the ground which until minutes ago had sparkled with frost.

'It's thawing,' Sasha said. 'I guess with Novica gone…'

'The ice age ended huh? At least we won't be freezing our asses off, because honestly? My French viscose has seen better days,' he gestured at the remains of his clothing and the rough rags Novica had wrapped him in.

'It's not your best look,' Sasha agreed, her voice lightening with relief at what appeared to be the return of the old Lorne, he was ok, she hoped. Maybe a little shaken but that was only to be expected? Right?

'What happened to Illyria?' Lorne asked, 'when you saw her in the mirror? And how come she was here?'

'It was only her essence, she left her shell behind.'

Lorne raised his eyebrows, 'Fred?'

'She woke up as the portal was opening,' Sasha said and watched the emotions cross Lorne's face, 'but I think Illyria is still here somewhere. She said she could defeat him…'

'Well that didn't work then, she won't be pleased,' Lorne said, heaving himself into an upright position and watching the valley before them defrost slowly. 'So she's hiding out somewhere in this dimension, this great big empty huge unmapped dimension …'

Sasha saw his point. 'Yeah how does a person go about finding a godly essence in a giant empty realm? That's got to be almost impossible to track.'

'Almost,' Lorne said, 'but not quite.' He closed his eyes and opened his mind. 'This place is so quiet, everything is gone, except me, you and…' he breathed in sharply and a smile crept over his lips. 'Illyria. I can feel her… '

Sasha was momentarily impressed, looking out over the valley trying to see what he felt, but when she looked back at him her temporary relief left her. The primitive look was back on his face.

'I feel her. Her confusion and her defeat, her bleeding pride….' He moaned softly, 'Oh… And I can taste her fear,' he said, the faintest sign of moisture at his lips and a hunger in his eyes.

-- --

'They're still at it you know,' Spike swaggered across the sumptuous dining room and gazed out across the darkly moonlit Italian landscape, 'Still yakking away while his godliness sets up home in LA and meantime the only one of them with a bit of kick is in some bloody hell dimension trying to rescue the green bloke. Something wrong here don't you think?'

Fred looked up sadly from her place at the table. It was large and highly polished and made her look even more diminutive than before.

'You not eating that?' Spike gestured at a large plate of food hidden under a silver dish.

'I think teleporting made me queasy,' she said softly, 'that and having a god live in my body for a few months.'

Spike moved to sit with her, his eyes looking over her in concern. 'They said you were gone,' he said slowly, 'That she'd destroyed you and you couldn't get back.'

Fred held his gaze steadily, the only outward demonstration of her fragile strength, 'I wasn't ready to go,' she said.

'Good on you,' Spike smiled awkwardly, his features struggling with the emotion he felt. 'Tough little cookie.' He patted her hand and playfully touched her on the nose.

'I miss Wesley,' she said.

'I guess you do,' he conceded.

'And Gunn, and Cordy, I miss them all.'

'Yeah,' Spike slumped forward in his seat.

'We're going to lose Lorne if we don't do something,' her light voice went on, 'and they're doing nothing, just theorising about magics and possibilities, well I like theories more than the next person but I think we need some action. Illyria showed me, when I looked in the mirror, she showed me what she saw. I think there's still a connection between us, I understand stuff about this god, maybe we could use that somehow? I don't know how yet but we have to try. I know that Novica got most of Lorne's soul, I felt what Illyria felt when she touched him, do you know what that does to someone like Lorne?'

'Kills him?'

'No, its worse than that. It alters him. Lorne's unusual because he has a soul. Demons from Pylea don't have souls but I'm guessing that's why he could hear music and feel emotions. Without that soul, or with one as damaged as his might be now, he's just another demon from Pylea, his instincts will take over.'

'So what kind of demon are we talking about?'

'Pylean demons? Hunters, brutal killers, they torture human beings… I should know'

'Oh…' Spike said. 'That's not good.'

'If we can defeat this Novica we can return Lorne's soul to him and hopefully get all this mess sorted out.'

'I though Novica ate souls?'

'He does, but not Lorne's, he used Lorne's soul to break the spell keeping him in the dimension, Lorne's soul is sacred to him, he wears it as a talisman…'

'The thing around his neck.' Spike piped up, 'There's always a bloody talisman isn't there… some tacky looking jewel that holds the key, I remember when I was in Sunnydale and…' he stopped regaining his focus, 'So we destroy the talisman, get Lorne his soul back and stop Novica eating the population of LA….' He hesitated… 'Ah… problem,'

'Problem? I'd say we have a few.'

'Sasha, she's trapped in that dimension with Lorne. I think it's going to get messy, there's issues there…between them…. aren't there always where slayers are involved, but my main worry is what do you get when you add one confused Slayer to one newly soulless demon?'

'I'm betting she can take care of herself if he gets all growly…'

'That's what I'm worried about…'

There was a beat and the pair found themselves looking at one another meaningfully.

'No time to waste?' Fred ventured.

'Uh-huh.'

-- --

'I never realised how great this was before,' Lorne was hopping down a rock face in front of her and his up and down personality was beginning to seriously disturb his companion. 'When they went on about it in Pylea I could never be bothered making the time for it, but I swear…'he rounded on her so fast she collided with him, 'This is the bomb, this tracking thing, well it rocks.' And he sprang off. 'It's a buzz it really is, feeling yourself getting closer to them, sensing them anticipating it, getting scared, panicking a bit… she's panicking now, 

she's really terrified I tell you! It's like music, creepy music that gives you goosebumps,' he laughed heartily ending with I high pitched inhalation and then his face grew harsh and dangerous, his voice dropping an octave. 'Oh when I find her… I tell you it's a shame she's all incorporeal or I could teach her a lesson or two for the things she's done the little bitch…'

'Lorne!' she reeled, 'Have you heard yourself? Why would you of all people want to scare or hurt anyone?' Sasha couldn't keep the alarm from her voice any longer.

Lorne slowed to a halt. His head dropped and his shoulders seemed to slump as through the life was draining from him. She could see the bloodstains from his wounds seeping through the material cross his back in the contorted patterns of Novica's hieroglyphs. Sasha heard him take a deep breath and let it all go; he turned to her, his face losing that primitive expression once more.

'I… I don't want to scare people…' he faltered, 'I…' The frown passed over his face like a shadow and she sensed him searching deep within himself. He wavered, swaying on his feet and holding his head with one hand. 'I don't feel so good,' he volunteered. Sasha stepped forward and took both his hands, clasping them at the level of her heart.

'What is wrong with you Lorne? Is this because of what Novica did?'

He looked at her confused, his eyes wide and frightened. 'I guess… I mean I thought I was just a bit skittish with the whole being thrown into a hell dimension and tortured thing… but I don't feel…' he looked suddenly alarmed and vulnerable, 'I don't feel like me, I feel like I'm losing me. All this stuff about hunting and oh god what I thought about just then with Illyria… well… it's all so…. it's… it's disgusting…' he couldn't go on, 'What's happening to me, why I have I got all these feelings… no not feelings… urges… weird urges.'

'I think we should hurry and find her,' Sasha said, 'Just stay with me and don't give into this stuff, this isn't you, we can make this better,' and before she knew what she was doing she had reached up and kissed him softly on the lips. He blinked at her in surprise. 'I swore to myself I'd do that if I found you,' she said, 'Come on.'

-- --

Novica extracted his hand from his victim's heart where it had burned just moments before. The body fell to one side its chest closing over the gaping wound through which its soul had been drained.

'I am so bored,' Novica wandered off and left it but stopped again just feet away and surveyed his reflection in one of the few unshattered windows left in LA. He raised his eyebrows and turned his jaw from side to side. He was quite pleased with the effect. 'This should be more fun,' one of his followers clambered after him and crouched by his feet, puny and pale. Novica wrinkled his nose and gave him a sharp kick for fun. 'There's just no one here,' he gestured round the ruined city, 'they all got here before me and trashed the joint. Here was I anticipating a great expanse of lovely people to nibble on… then have them roaming around being horrible to each other… I could rid this realm of humanity you know and that would be so much fun… I love it when they're all empty, they just sort of wander about looking blank and doing mean things and its delicious… but I mean there's no one to nibble!' he pouted, 'And that's holding me back! What's a guy supposed to do? I need to 

build up my strength y'know?'

The thing at his feet nodded eagerly.

'Don't just nod at me, find me something to eat!' he booted it again.

The demon looked about, a slight expression of concern passing over its pinched features. Novica sighed and watched as his most recent victim crawled past him on all fours. He cocked his head and waited, the tiniest of smiles on his lips.

'How are you feeling?' he asked. The woman looked up at him through a veil of hair. 'Its ok it gets better, soon you won't miss it at all.' He turned to another of his followers, 'Well clean her up a bit and show her what to do, maybe she'll be more useful than you people, after all she knows her way round, probably knows where folks are hiding out…. And god knows I could do with some more souls…' he laughed at himself, 'God knows… get it? I'm the god and….. I know!' he grinned and turned from follower to follower waiting for a response.

Nothing.

'Gee you're a tough audience,' he grumbled.

-- --

They had crossed the valley, behind the podium and the mirror and close to the mountain range that had until hours before gleamed with snow. Now it ran in rivulets with water, washing dirt and debris towards them. Lorne was still fluctuating but Sasha sensed he was trying desperately to cling on and not give into his instincts. Every now and then she would see him catch himself and war with his demon needs, but at the same time she knew that they both relied on him to tune into those attributes which were most demon… his empathy traits were what was allowing them to trail Illyria and only she could tell them what to do. As they reached the base of the mountain she saw rage and hunger flash in his eyes immediately followed by shame.

'She's here,' Lorne said, 'somewhere here, I can feel her but she won't manifest. She feels weak and humiliated, oh its…' something like pleasure crossed his face and he shook his head as though trying to clear the feeling. 'Oh god I can't bear this,' he said quietly, 'I feel so out of control.'

Sasha laid a hand on his arm and he flinched. She held him steady, her hand tingling.

'How can we make her appear?' she asked trying to keep focused.

Lorne took a deep breath. 'I don't know,' he said, and slowly lowered himself onto a rock. He sat with his head in his hands, his fingertips rubbing the base of his horns. Sasha hovered nervously, shifting her weight from foot to foot and looking around.

'Come on Illyria don't waste our time,' she muttered, 'We want to kick this god's ass as much as you so what do you say you lend us a hand?'

Silence but for the crackle of thawing ice and Lorne's soft moans. Sasha went to sit by him. 

She watched him for a few moments, the pain clear on his face.

'I'm sorry for all this,' she said suddenly. 'It should have been me who ended up here not you.'

'That wasn't the destiny sweetie,' he said from behind his hands. 'Besides better my soul gets sucked than yours huh? People are nothing without their souls, empty shells, no humanity; at least I have a whole other career as a blood thirsty demon laid out before me. I could hone a whole new bunch of skills... murder… pillage… maybe some ravishing…'

'Not funny.'

'Never said it was. Doesn't feel funny from here.'

'I'm sorry about other stuff too,' Sasha went on. She'd promised herself more than just his kiss when she made up her mind to find him, she'd promised to make up for it all, all the hurt she'd caused, they way she'd doubted him. It all seemed so far away now, but it was important. She tried to find the words.

'Hey pumpkin, try not to feel so guilty,' he said, 'it's coming off you in waves.'

'Sorry,'

'Not helping my headache,' he said.

'I just treated you so badly and now I…'

'Forget it. You're a slayer, it's your job to be suspicious of things with green skin. You came through in the end. Go easy on yourself.'

'I didn't come through in the end Lorne. I let you get sucked into a hell dimension,'

'You showed up when I needed you didn't you?' he said. He looked up at last. 'I understand better than I would like to, its part of the empathy gig, and boy your heart is confused right now. After all you were a little sweet on lil' old human Lorne and now he's off destroying the world, that has to be tricky for you.'

Sasha looked at him in disbelief, but he was right.

'It was just a glamour,' she said, 'It's not you, he's taken your spell is all.'

'He's taken my face and my soul,' Lorne said, 'and all he's left behind is the demon, and that's the one bit of me you never could deal with.'

Sasha hesitated looking into his eyes and seeing the truth there. She wanted to say something to make it all right again, she wanted to reassure him that she'd come to her senses somehow and she could see the black the white and the grey bits in between. She wanted him to know that if they came out of this, when they came out of this, it would be him that she wanted, and that she'd learnt so much.

'Lorne… I…'

The air between them shimmered blue and rapidly became still again. Both of them jumped and looked around them.

'Illyria?' Lorne said.

Sasha stood automatically on the defensive. The shimmer came again and then she appeared, stepping forward as her image grew denser and more lifelike.

'I was defeated,' she said to no-one in particular. She looked hard at Lorne and then Sasha, 'I no longer wish to be here.'

'None of us want to be here kitten,' Lorne said incredulously. Within him the rage was returning. Illyria eyed him suspiciously.

'You are not whole,' she said, 'When you requested the girl I thought it would make you whole, but he still took your essence.'

Lorne morphed rapidly between irritated and embarrassed.

'I brought the girl to you,' Illyria said, 'Why is your soul not whole?'

Lorne didn't really know how to answer and Illyria turned from him. 'Demon clown,' she grumbled. Then she looked at Sasha, 'This one has power, I thought perhaps she would be more useful.'

Sasha bristled. 'It's kinda hard to be useful when you're stuck in an empty hell dimension.'

'You let him drain some of your essence too and he escaped. That was foolish. I am angry.' Illyria said. 'Why did you let him do that, you were brought here to prevent it.'

'He was killing Lorne! If you brought me here it was to prevent that.'

'Curious beings,' Illyria said and dismissed them. 'I have been thinking. My initial plan did not work,' she flinched with shame, 'I will make a new plan.'

'Hallelujah,' Lorne said sullenly, Sasha noticed the muscles in his jaw twitch and he got up and paced a few feet from Illyria's ethereal body. He ran his eyes over it bitterly. Illyria straightened, her back to him, 'Your anger is refreshing,' she said, 'You were always so weak…' Lorne let out a frustrated cry but Sasha caught his eye and he backed down. Illyria approached him, her pale blue eyes regarding him closely as she hovered ghostly in front of him.' Think back now to when you killed the boy Lindsay, and feel that power, it alters now doesn't it? Without your soul? It feels…. Right.'

Lorne grimaced, 'No it doesn't it…' but he knew that it did, that the demon in him as reconsidering the act and revelling in it. He cursed, tears hot in his eyes. 'Leave me alone, this isn't me!'

'We're wasting time,' Sasha stepped between them, 'You created this magic…can you get us 

out of here or not?'

'Why should I release you?' Illyria queried her.

'You think I have power?' Sasha said, 'let me loose on that bastard and I'll show you power.'

Illyria's cold lips smiled. 'Very well,' she said. 'Let us bring him another battle.' She raised her hand and the silent mirror at the centre of the valley began to glow blue once more.

-- --

As he moved the ice formed behind him, filling the streets as though it fell jewel-like from his robes. His demons scampered around him, darting off into buildings and seeking high and low for any survivors of the apocalypse who might feed their master. The sky grew dark with snow laden clouds and once again the sun hid from the city. As he walked he hummed, snatches of tunes unfamiliar and strange to him, but notes which seemed at home in his mouth nonetheless. He was growing accustomed to his new form, this human shape. As he drifted past broken shop fronts and cafes he glimpsed himself, his features lit up by the light which came from the soul he wore slung around his neck. Pretty little demon soul. All the rage this season.

A shriek went up from one of his creatures. Ah, at last they discovered something. He waited as the sounds of struggle came from a boarded up gas station. In a moment a blue skinned demon flew through the air and landed heavily at his feet. Novica looked down and frowned.

'Damn,' he said.

When he looked up again it was to see the vampire who had made the rude gesture.

'You!' he cried.

'The one and only,' Spike swaggered over to him, 'got a bone or two to pick with you matey, came a long way, got a few issues to work through.'

'You smell of magic, you have been using the shadow paths,' he held the vampire's stare and with his mind ordered his demons to delve further into the gas station.

'Er.. yeah what of it?'

Novica eyed him with curiosity, 'Someone near you has power, a witch perhaps…'

'A whole bloody coven, and you wait til they..'

'They won't come here,' Novica, 'They fear me,' and he saw that it was true in Spike's face. 'You are alone… well… almost.'

Fred's high pitched scream pierced the darkening street. Spike spun round only to be caught by a dozen pale demons.

'You really should spend less time posturing and more time watching your back,' Novica 

remarked. He approached Fred's struggling form, suspended between two demons, and raised his hand to purge her soul. She stared at him defiantly.

'Aren't you frightened?' he asked.

'I've dealt with your kind before, once you've lived with a god and seen it in the mirror every day it's not so scary to look at one face to face.'

He let the hand move just inches from her and looked deep behind her eyes. Odd. His fingers touched her skin but he did not try to consume her… instead Novica regarded her coolly, taking in her delicate human features. 'My Illyria did not end your being,' he pondered, 'I can see why, you're…' he formed a word with his lips but stopped himself before he could say it. This vulnerable human was effecting him, he had almost called her 'brave,' it must be a spell, something Illyria was doing to irritate him. He waved his new prisoners away trying to dismiss this new and unsettling feeling. 'Save these two for later,' he commanded, 'They're special goodies and I want to savour them… but first!' he beamed around him, 'Let's go shopping!'

-- --

'OK so we've chewed it all over and we think if I can…' Willow emerged into the dining room to find nothing and nobody, just a circle of coloured sand and some scorch marks.

'Oh…' she said in frustration, 'Oh I had a plan… you guys couldn't wait for the plan?'

She snapped her fingers and vanished.

-- --

They could hear something out there. It had been so quiet for so long. First there was the chaos, then the sun had returned, and now there was this silence and growing darkness again. And it was cold. They huddled together, tying to warm each other. The few survivors. Surely they hadn't lived this long just to die now.

The sound came again, and they knew it wouldn't be long before whatever it was broke through and all the fear began again. A child wept silently in one corner of the mall, his eyes fixed on the tall doors which lead to the world outside. The hell on earth outside.

-- --

Lorne stumbled as they came crashing through the mirror, tripping and falling to the floor, but as fast as the effects of their journey left him the vision blinded him. He called out and Sasha grabbed him, saving him from toppling over the edge of the podium in the white room. Illyria emerged from the glass, her body fluctuating in intensity and she hunted for her shell in this dimension.

His dream came back to him then. The force of it knocking the breath from him. Illyria's song and Fred under the bar. She read formula and he read souls and he had to hurry or there would be none left…

'The mall… the mall near Wolfram and Hart… ' he stuttered. 'Go!' Illyria cast one loaded glance at him and disappeared.

-- --

A final blow and the cold wind rushed in, snow and ice swirling around the ruined shopping centre. The people shrank back against the walls shielding their faces from the freezing gale. Novica stepped forward and surveyed his victims.

'Oh now this is more like it,' he said, 'I've got me breakfast lunch and dinner here, maybe a little snackeroo too.' He looked about and his eyes rested on the little boy in the corner. 'Let's start with you cupcake, a little appetiser huh?'

The power darted from his fingertips and sliced into the boy, holding him suspended above the floor for a minute or more as the soul drained from him. As quickly as it began he fell to the ground again and crawled slowly towards the ranks of Novica's followers. One by one he fed from them all, quicker each time as his power grew, and each time the empty shells crawled back to him and swelled the numbers of his army, they're skin pale and deathly. In time they would turn blue like the others, disfigured and inhuman. He didn't look back at them, just let them crawl away. Something at the back of his mind was tugging at him, distracting him from the fun to be had with these beings. He pushed on, forcing himself when the small voice of his subconscious began to nag.

The hum spilled into song as he move amongst them. He belted out the cheerful lyrics without really knowing where they came from;

'_Hey life, look at me  
I can see the reality  
'Cause when you shook me, took me, outta my world…'_

A noise from behind him diverted him and Novica turned to rebuke his demons. He saw his last victim crawl to the gathering army and slump into position, empty and bleak. For a second he caught its eyes, this shell he had voided and the barrenness within chilled him. He laughed defensively and focused elsewhere. At the centre of the throng he could see Spike and Fred pinned by a dozen arms, forced to watch the proceedings. Her eyes in particular bore into him. Novica drew himself up to his full impressive height and went on with the show.

'What's the matter? Not got a good enough view? Bring them forward a bit will you, I want them to see.' The demons pulled them forward, Spike struggling all the way, Fred curiously unresponsive. Novica looked deep into them, his curiosity peaked by Spike's soul. It seemed to share its shell with something more, a demon. Oh if he had only known, he might have chosen Spike for his power source. A vampire champion would be a worthy soul to have slung around his neck, and there would be none of these nasty side effects either. Like this curious music and this nagging feeling of doubt. No matter, it would be a pleasure to consume him. And this one… this other that Illyria used.

He turned to Fred and sought out her soul. At first it shone brightly behind her eyes like her defiance and then bit by bit it seemed to fade. He tried to grasp it with his mind but it slipped from sight. Frustrated he reached out and placed a hand against her heart determined to 

secure it. If the girl was going to die he was going to claim that soul before it departed. It seemed a strong one, heroic even, he could use that. He closed his eyes and tried to feel it there, but it felt smooth and hard to grip. No wait… here… he sighed and smiled broadly… here it was. He could do this after all and then perhaps he'd feel better.

A hand grabbed his wrist and twisted it away. Novica's eyes opened wide and stared directly into Illyria's gaze. As she twisted harder he felt himself weaken for a second and his knees threatened to give way. A look of triumph crossed her face and that was enough to spur him. He wrenched her arm away and backhanded her across the jaw sending her spinning into the body of the army behind her. Novica breathed deeply once, twice, and seeing no response from her turned his back, calling over his shoulder as he did so.

'You never learn do you Illyria, it's my time now, you cannot defeat me. This army, these creatures…' he gestured around him, 'this dimension… its mine… I will succeed where you failed.'

'I wouldn't be so sure of that,' a voice said.

-- --

She was half carrying him towards the mall, the effects of his time in hell and the wounds he had received there both physical and to his spirit where causing him to fade fast. She half wondered if maybe he was suffering some kind of slow death, a delayed reaction the loss of his soul. In truth she didn't understand any of this, he'd just been adamant that they get to the mall. She had wanted him to remain by the dormant mirror, out of danger and let her fight this battle but he wouldn't hear of it and he had lashed out at her aggressively in his insistence. She feared him briefly and he had sensed it, but they'd gone on nonetheless. Now as they approached he suddenly straightened and eyed the building with determination. She saw the primitive look cross his face again and hesitated wondering whether or not to try and reach the Lorne she knew inside. And then she saw the demon hordes in front of them and realised that if he was going to survive this he might well have to rely on his instincts.

'What do we do?' she asked.

But he was already moving towards them.

'Lorne! Lorne? I really think we should…'

He rounded on her teeth bared and threw her to the ground. Despite her strength she was taken aback and weak with shock. She tried to scream but he was remarkably powerful and with a blow he took her breath away. His hands closed around her throat and as he pinned her there her thoughts flitted weakly through her memories.

_An alleyway… a human man….a Demon… what do you expect… slayers kill demons… should never have trusted him… driving through the night with his voice warming her as he sang… paying for it now… a shattered mirror… a fading glamour… fool… idiot… you should never have… but I loved him… but I loved him… but I…_

The world went dark.

-- --

'Witch,' Novica said.

'That's me,' Willow said.

'You come here alone?'

'I do,' she said with a smile. He moved to grasp her and she vanished, reappearing across the mall near Spike. Novica shook his head with a sad smile.

'You really think your little tricks will stop me girl? I am a god, I invented these tricks.'

'Yeah well I improved the design,' and she let out a sphere of magic cloaking herself, Spike and Illyria and knocking the demons around them to the floor. She braced herself for his response and nothing came. The demons around her just looked at her knowingly, the empty shells did nothing. They lined the walls and sat unseeing on the floor. It was eerie and still, as though the winter realm Novica had created outside had frozen the living. Willow shuddered. This was not what she had expected, big bads usually fought with magic and weapons and fire. Everything here was hopeless and desolate. Nothing cared enough to fight. The humanity was gone.

Novica sauntered deeper into the mall and picked out another victim, draining them swiftly and sending them back towards his army.

'There is no need for the 'big fight,' he explained sensing her confusion, 'It will all be mine by turns… I've all the time in the world witch, you have no concept of what time really is, I have waited millennia and it feels like minutes now. My power is a thousand times yours, and it does not rely purely on magic or on strength. You have nothing which worries me…'

Willow sent a blast of her most powerful magic towards him and he deflected it with a flick of his wrist.

'You see?' he said. 'The power runs deeper than all of this.' Novica looked at the growing ranks of his victims and smiled, 'Do you remember Pandora's box?'

Willow narrowed her eyes at him.

'Of course you do witch, you're well read… so can you tell me what it contained?'

'Hope,'

'Hope… indeed… look at them,' he gestured at the pale remnants of people. 'They don't even cry. They are empty. They have no hope.' As he demonstrated he avoided looking too closely at them. He wanted to undermine the witch and her helpers but he was starting to feel shaky. The little boy he had drained was seated at the front of the army, his face expressionless, and his last tear drying coldly on his cheek. Novica grit his teeth.

Willow tried again, fighting the ice with a jet of fire drawn straight from a hell dimension. 

Novica blinked and there was the slightest of hesitations, but once again he blocked her magic easily and moved on with his task.

'Um…OK I was pretty sure that would work,' Willow said. Spike rolled his eyes at her.

'Got any better plans?' he said, 'This thing is getting more powerful by the minute. It can't get its arse kicked 'cos it's a god, its immune to magic because it bloody well invented most of it….'

'It has to have a weakness.'

'You know normally I'd agree but I really don't think this one does. He couldn't give a damn about us he's not even bothered look… he's off stuffing himself with soul sandwiches, he couldn't give a hoot!'

'Oh I could give a hoot,' Novica said rising to the game and ignoring the press of the boys shell on his mind, 'I'm looking forward to the witch's soul, and yours… I've other plans for Illyria and her sweet little shell….' His eyes roamed over her body with malevolence.

Illyria bridled and broke free of the sphere of magic, catapulting herself at him. With a movement he sent her flying back. The sight of her angered him into strength once more. Nothing could touch him. Not least the god creature who had imprisoned him before, no, he must remember what he suffered to be here. He would deal with these feelings of weakness later.

'The dimension is shaping itself to my rules,' he explained confidently, 'and my number one rule,' he said, 'is nothing is allowed to stop me,' he grinned, 'Good one eh?' Refreshed he hauled another child towards him by her hair and moved as though to drink from her soul. She looked up at him pitifully, a single tear tracking down her cheek. He thought of the boy, frozen behind him and a frown crossed his face. To his horror he felt himself put her down, almost unbidden, something else controlling him. He looked confused, he glanced up at Illyria who lay motionless yards away. Not her… what then? 'I don't fancy this one,' he said flippantly, his uncertainty trembling subtlety in his voice, 'funny… ah well there's plenty more…'

'Why don't you try this one,' Lorne said from above him.

He was standing on the parapet of the mall, looking down at the god and his army, and at his friends. The railing between him and the scene below was twisted and broken. He held Sasha before him suspended and unconscious, her hair falling in front of her face, her neck bruised with his fingertips. Willow gasped and smiled but quickly realised that all was not well. His face was blank of everything but hatred. Lorne felt nothing but anger.

Novica raised his eyebrows in something like awe.

'Gosh,' he said, 'You've come a long way Lorne, I was sure I drained enough out of you to… but never mind… this could be fun… you have no soul and you're getting in touch with your demony roots… how's that going for you? Looking hot by the way… all ansgty… gotta feel good right… fitting into your heritage at last… and half killing this one…wow! Go team!'

Lorne growled down at him. 'Do you want this soul or not?'

'Slayer soul eh?' Novica gushed, 'Absolutely! I'd love to finish the job!' and he opened his arms. Good, things were moving again, he'd get the blasted child later, this would give him what he needed. Lorne let Sasha fall, plummeting headlong towards the god below. He caught her with a giggle. Willow sent another desperate blast of magic his way and this time he didn't even have to move to stop her, it stopped mid air and reeled back on her, shattering the sphere around her and Spike.

'Nice one,' Spike said in despair. He launched himself at Novica and met the same fate, beaten back by an invisible power. He cursed and stood again, trying to attack, charging like a bull.

Novica raised a hand. 'Come closer and I'll have that soul you worked so hard for vampire. Wait your turn.' The lightness had left his voice, now he was business like; he was gazing intently at the motionless slayer. Something in his tone stopped Spike. Something was happening. He looked up at where Lorne stood, unmoving in the shadows of the parapet.

Novica had laid Sasha gently on the floor and now crouched poised to plunge his hand deep into her heart and finish the task he had started on the other side of the mirror. Already scraps of her soul floated in the talisman, mingling with Lorne's. He tuned into them and watched them swirl together in his mind's eye. A powerful concoction, a slayer, a demon soul and…

Novica flinched. He looked back at her body, his hand trembling slightly. He shook his head violently and forcefully placed the palm against her chest. He understood now. This niggling was coming from Lorne, the demon and his damned humanity, he'd ingested it all and it churned like bile in his body. He looked at the demon's sharp red eyes. Did he really think this could stop him? Paltry feelings in the face of his power.

A stab of pain now, through his palm, straight up his arm. It settled at his heart. He couldn't stand for it, weakening his limbs, holding him prisoner on the floor by Sasha's body.

'Damn it,' he muttered, wrestling with the curious human emotion.

Across the room Spike cocked his head with interest and took a few steps closer. He saw movement behind Novica and Lorne emerged. The god did nothing to stop him as he advanced. He looked strong, focused and powerful. Novica braced himself to push him away, fight him even if it came to it, this other self; this dark reflection.

Lorne crouched opposite the god and looked into the human face he had created one bleak night to keep him safe. The blood ran thickly down his forearms from the wounds the old one had made in his flesh. Novica looked back, his expression washing between curiosity, arrogance and fear.

'What's stopping you sweetie?' Lorne said brutally, his red eyes hard. Sasha stirred between them on the floor, her hand moving to her throat and groaning, causing her lips to part. Novica moved his hand to touch her again and drew back unable to go further. She opened her eyes briefly looking from Lorne to Novica and in her dreamy state rested them on the god. 'Lorne…' she whispered, her lips curving at the sight of his human beauty.

The demon Lorne bit his lip hard and glared at Novica whose satisfaction was apparent and superior. The memories burning, Lorne seethed with the injustice and misery of unwanted love. He wanted to scream, to tear at Novica and destroy him for all this agony. To make him feel it all somehow. To wrench that human face, that cursed glamour from his body and reveal his true and hideous form. The violence gathered in him and he realised at last how he could defeat this monster. Suddenly possessed by the need for destruction Lorne gasped Novica's hand and plunged it hard into Sasha. She screamed but in a second she was followed by the Old One. He tore himself away from her, a rush of pain flooding through him.

'What?' he stumbled, forced to all fours and panting for breath. The intensity of those feelings was alien and unbearable. Was that love, or guilt, or need? He couldn't tell. A thousand images rushed before him, memories that Sasha and Lorne shared in the pendant which held their souls.

'Hurts doesn't it?' Lorne said, 'God it hurt so much, all those things she said to me, all that mistrust and disappointment, and every time she looked at your pretty face she struggled. 'Why can't you just keep the glamour on Lorne?'' he imitated her voice cruelly, 'but it wasn't to keep her safe and stop folks finding us… it was to stop her feeling so guilty…. See it was wrong of her to feel that way… she was a slayer… she couldn't have feelings for a demon… god no… so she'd beg me to keep that face on… that lousy face that you stole… well you can keep it, I'm done with it now… but I want my soul… and I want hers…. And I want the thing that's growing between them in that little talisman because that can never be yours.'

At the edges of the mall the blue army shifted, uncertain and weakening. Only the old one's power kept them in this dimension. Sensing the shift in the balance of power Spike bit his lip and hurled himself once more at Novica. This time he broke through, the god flew back and landed hard on the ground. He wrestled with Spike, plunging one hand deep into the vampire's chest. Spike called out harshly as the light burned at his centre tearing at the soul he had fought so hard for. Then Illyria was on them then, wrestling with her husband and clawing Spike away from him. The vampire's face changed with fury. Novica distracted by Illyria, turned to hit her hard with magics and as he did so Spike grabbed for the shining talisman which dangled at his neck. Novica rounded on him the fear hot in his eyes and wailed painfully but it was too late. Holding it high above his head in victory Spike taunted the god, 'this what you want is it? This your little power source?' and he hurled the talisman to the floor where it shattered.

'No!' Lorne screamed and fell to his knees by the shards. Spike realised too late what he had done and his dead skin blanched paler than before.

For a second everything was still. Spike stood over the broken vessel and gazed at its contents, a thick gold liquid glowing brightly and seeping away into the earth. He stuttered but had nothing to say. He looked quickly at Lorne and at Sasha, still unconscious. He looked at willow, her anger threatening to spill over and her face grim.

Novica lay to one side, suddenly weak, his form fading in and out of existence and in a moment Illyria glided to his side with a look of hatred and derision. She knelt by him, his queen once more for this final act.

'I felt human pain when Wesley left,' she said, 'I feel none for you, and no joy either. Just emptiness,' she looked up at his victims, 'Like them.' His image flickered. 'Yours is a desolate and unimpressive end,' she said.

Sasha was coming round again, trying to sit up and coughing at the pain in her throat. She heard Illyria's voice and knew that Novica was finished. She sought out his form and watched as Lorne's human face came and went, back and fortha cross the divide to another dimension. And then she saw Lorne and her face set with fear. He was bent over the remains of their mingled souls and he was weeping. A faint mist was evaporating from the golden pool, undulating and intensifying, threatening to vanish entirely. She felt his despair rise and churned within him and her own pain burgeoned solidly at her heart. This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

'Lorne?' she whispered. His shoulders shook in reply and she thought her heart might break for watching him there. He clawed at the ground, a mixture of anguish and fury driving him on. Everything he had fought for, all that he valued, all that he loved, spilled brokenly on the floor. And then as the mist moved upwards she saw it touch his face, linger around his mouth. He lifted his head and she saw the tears trickle, sparkle in the glow. The mist hesitated and then entered him with a breath. As she watched the rage and unhappiness fall from his features and he became infused with warmth. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her and she felt a jolt of realisation pass through her body.

'Lorne?' she crawled towards him faster and raised her hand to his face. Behind him the glamour faded for a second time and Novica became essence, he faded once, reappeared briefly and was met only my the cold gaze of Illyria. The he vanished unmourned for. Sasha barely noticed, the image she had wept over when Lorne broke the mirror just disappeared. But he was nothing. Here was something more. The last of the warm mist bathed her face and as she waited for his response she felt it penetrate her, soothing those areas which had lain empty and bare.

He touched her neck where he had hurt her and opened his mouth to explain but she took his hand and signalled that it didn't matter, that she knew that Lorne was gone, his soul was restored and he was whole again. Scarred maybe, a long road ahead and a thousand things to do for the sake of the world and everyone in it, but whole nonetheless. Lorne smiled hesitantly and once again she let her lips brush his, just once, until his smile became secure. He let one finger trace her profile, pass over her cheek, touch her hair, he was drinking her in, letting his eyes take in every detail and sensation.

Deep within her she felt a connection to him; a hangover from the time their souls had spent in the talisman that she felt would never leave. She felt him relax, saw it and felt it at the same moment. There was a little time for them now, and they had help. Behind them she was aware of Willow and Spike moving among the victims. They'd find a way to help them and make this right. The apocalypse was over. Enough pain.

So instead of speaking she drew him to her and let his head rest on her shoulder; she savoured the moment she had waiting so long for. He was holding her at last and she had finally realised what she needed to know. That life wasn't simple and the fight would go on, that good and evil merged and altered and that she must alter with it, and that the thing she needed most in this world, the person she held most dear, was right there at last in her arms.

'And I always will be,' he said, reading her quietly, his breath warm on her skin, 'I always will be.'


	4. Chapter 4 :The Lost Ones

_The apocalypse was over. Enough pain._

_So instead of speaking she drew him to her and let his head rest on her shoulder; she savoured the moment she had waiting so long for. He was holding her at last and she had finally realised what she needed to know. That life wasn't simple and the fight would go on, that good and evil merged and altered and that she must alter with it, and that the thing she needed most in this world, the person she held most dear, was right there at last in her arms._

'_And I always will be,' he said, reading her quietly, his breath warm on her skin, 'I always will be.'_

She was falling, falling through the mirror, through the vortex to the empty wasteland beyond. The wind rushing bitterly over her flesh as she tumbled, unable to stop, crashing painfully into the ground. The ice melted it lay barren and featureless, a sense of desolation and hopelessness filling the cold atmosphere and weighing on her skin as she scrabbled to her feet. Something had bought her here. Sasha narrowed her eyes trying to see into the distance where the clouds hung low on the horizon. She scanned it desperately, and with each glance she felt her courage ebb away from her, siphoned off into the aching nothingness of the hell dimension. She felt his fingers grip her shoulder and spun to attack.

'Hey hey, sweetie it's only me,' his voice was close to her, his breath warm on her neck and she relaxed, the steel leaving the tendons which had tightened in her nightmare. 'Just a dream,' he went on, 'Just a dream.'

Sasha let herself fall back against the pillow, against Lorne and he slipped his arms around her waist.

'I keep looking for something,' she muttered, 'something we left behind, or didn't see…'

'It's over…'

'He's still there…'

'He's gone, he was destroyed,' she felt Lorne nuzzle against her.

'I know I know it's just a dream,' she stared out across the pillow to the wall as though it held all the answers. For a second Lorne pulled back and gazed at her, since that day in the Mall the connection between them had remained intact. Although he was always able to read auras he was certain that here he could seemore. On quiet nights when her defenses were down he would watch her dream and see the images flit before him and sometimes when she laughed he would catch her thoughts, word perfect.

Never one to intrude upon a being's thoughts uninvited he often chose not to look, but he had to admit it was tempting, especially when those thoughts were aimed at or about him. He smiled and dropped his head again, pushing against her softly and feeling the tantalizing sensation of exquisite human contact. Skin on skin; warm and yielding. Her aura flickered and he could sense his advances were welcome.

She'd been so nervous at first. And who could blame her, he'd been nervous too. The love they had found in the aftermath of Novica's demise was fragile somehow, new and delicate. He hadn't wanted to rush and damage it, move too fast and destroy their chances. But to his surprise she had read him almost as easily as he had read her, his empathic ability shared now across their souls which had mingled in the talisman. Just enough to reassure each other that their desire was common and their love was equal. Now he was moving down her back, planting soft kisses along her spine.

Sasha closed her eyes at last and concentrated on his movements, the firm contact of his hands on her thighs, the press of two tiny horns as he nuzzled the small of her back. With a smooth movement he rolled her over so that she lay under him and continued to work his way across her belly. With each kiss he could feel her arousal grow stronger and her aura shimmered invitingly.

It took longer for her to feel his intensity, her empathic ability was borrowed from him, but it came with time and when it did it moved over her in a powerful wave. Her eyes flew open and she gasped, watching as his own aura appeared for her, multi toned and sparkling like the sea in sunlight. It never failed to take her breath away. She reached up to clasp her hands around his neck and pulled him towards her.

Lorne came willingly his mouth covering hers and his weight pressing her into the soft mattress. It was at times like this that she wanted to be consumed entirely by the moment, forgetting the continuing chaos outside and all they faced, the work ahead. Here there was just Lorne, his skilled touch and the need that filled her at her centre and threatened to send her toppling. How had she survived without this? How had she ever doubted him? She could feel him pressing into her and knew that it was just seconds away, that sensation of joining, physically and spiritually, a sensation she had never experienced with any human lover.

He moaned softly and she responded in anticipation, the words spilling from her mouth safe in the knowledge that they'd be received and welcomed.

'I love you,' she whispered.

The explosion rocked the building. Lorne started, pushing himself up on his forearms and staring towards the door of their room, his aura flickered darkly, the shimmering gold of their lovemaking leaving him. Sasha sat up quickly so that their heads almost collided.

'What the…? she began.

Another explosion, smaller this time.

'I'm guessing the houseguests are trying out their mojo,' Lorne sighed. 'Oh for a lie in on a Sunday… why doesn't the apocalypse take a day of rest?'

He turned and looked back at her, her pupils wide with interrupted desire. For a second he considered getting up and investigating whatever it was the gang were up to in the lobby and then he gave in.

'I've spent enough time being the big damned hero,' he said, 'My Sunday mornings are officially sacred…' he glanced at the clock, 'at least for the next half hour, I have some mojo 

of my own that needs flexing…' his eyes flashed with humour and he role played his next words, '…and oh look… a slayer… and a little helpless demon me… what can I do? Oh no! Someone help me, she's going to have her wicked way!'

Sasha erupted into laughter before she kissed him deeply and pulled him down onto the bed.

-- --

'Shouldn't we be doing this on a full moon or something?' Spike called and then picked his teeth idly, his feet up on the antique desk and his leather duster spilling over the back of what had once been Wesley's chair.

Willow shot him a look from the lobby where Illyria stood motionless in the centre of a pentagram.

'It doesn't matter what time of day it is for this one, its all about the internal forces not the 

external, the position of the moon makes no difference,' she turned back to the blue goddess.

Spike took a swig of blood and leaned to one side to look out the door at proceedings. Willow murmured another incantation and a third explosion rocked the Hyperion hotel.

'It's not like I don't think it's a great idea,' Spike mused, watching the smoke billow softly through the office door. 'I mean obviously I'd love to see this work…'

'Shut up!' Willow said. She looked hard at Illyria, thinking.

The goddess cocked her head and eyed the witch with curiosity.

'I do not understand why you wish to release the shell's essence. I am useful and have aided you.'

'Yes, you have, and we're real grateful, but there has to be a way of separating you two.'

'But why? I am stronger than she is and more useful for violence.'

'That's not the point. We've seen that your essences can be parted and that Fred isn't destroyed as we thought. It's not fair to keep her locked up in there.'

'She can manifest.'

'It's takes a lot out of her to do that,' Willow said. 'This will benefit you too Illyria, you'll get a 'shell' to yourself… if I can just work this so that I somehow… ah!' she exclaimed, 'maybe if I add a little ergonoll,' she scurried to the reception area to recover the magical herb. Illyria paced impatiently inside the pentagram. She prodded the air in front of her experimentally and triggered a blue spark of electricity which she looked at with malice.

'There was no need to encase me in your magic,' she said, 'I am co-operating, I did not wish Novica to win, and I have no great need to destroy your little world. I find it… pleasant…' she frowned to herself.

'I know...' Willow said distractedly as she rummaged through herb pots, 'Its just part of the spell. I have to create a loop in reality around your form in order to split it without making a big mess.'

'Yeah, Lorne would never forgive us if we stained the décor,' Fred giggled behind her, 'he's so pleased to be back here so we'd better not mark his rugs.'

Willow approached her with the ergonoll.

'Did Illyria get bored?' she asked.

'Yeah she decided to let me out for a bit. Really she's been very fair lately. Its less like being imprisoned by an ancient god and more like having a roommate… maybe a foreign exchange room mate who doesn't quite get the culture… but it's bearable.'

Willow shook her head pleasantly. 'Well hopefully we can make it so you have a room of 

your own. She sprinkled the herb around the pentagram. 'How does that feel?'

Fred looked at her blankly. 'I dunno, pretty much the same.'

There was a series of small explosions around the pentagram's edges and both girls jumped.

'What do you say you call it a day?' a voice called from the stairs, 'because honestly I can't afford for you to be setting off the sprinkler system.'

Willow clapped her hands once and disabled the confining spell around Fred.

'Nice to see you sweetie,' Lorne said addressing his old friend, 'Is the blue meanie out?'

'Yeah I think she got tired of us all standing around not doing much.'

'I guess hell god's don't have days off,' Lorne poured himself a cup of coffee.

'Hell god is a little strong,' Willow observed, 'technically she's just a god from an alternative dimension, it's not necessarily a hell thing.'

'I do apologise,' Lorne replied with a trace of irony. 'I guess she's done her bit for the cause. But I'll be glad when you can get your little fireworks spell to work. And not just because it's ruining the floor… ' He looked at the black and white monitor they had set up on the reception desk. On the screen a dozen people listed aimlessly in the basement of the hotel, careful not to touch each other as they moved. 'What about them?' he asked, 'We making any developments?'

'Oh… well…we're…' Willow began hopefully.

'Not a thing,' Spike said, 'I keep telling them he ate their souls. Ate… as in digested. There's nothing we can do for them.'

Lorne looked at him sharply. 'We got mine back. My soul I mean.'

'Yours was in a spangly thing round his neck. The others he just used to feed. They're gone I tell you.'

'No I won't believe it,' Lorne said, his eyes returning to the screen. A young boy shuffled past eerily. 'We thought Fred was lost and we found her,' she reached forward and took his hand, 'there has to be a way. Look what we've got between us,' he looked at them one by one, 'a super powerful witch, a girl who shares her body with one of the Old Ones capable of doing this to a person, and a vampire that crossed the ends of his earth to find his own soul. We can figure this.'

'OK,' Spike conceded,' But I'm not feeding them, last time I went down there it made my blood run cold, its creepy the way they just shuffle around all silent like.'

'You're so tough,' Sasha said sarcastically as she joined them, 'They're harmless enough, and they need us to care for them cos they can't remember how to themselves.'

'I know, it's not that I think they're dangerous,' Spike looked at the screen, 'I could snap 'em all like twigs if I wanted to,' Willow scowled at him, 'It's just they're creepy. Empty like. I don't like being in a room with them, give me a hell beastie any day at least it responds.'

'I know but we have to do this for them, they've no-one else,' Sasha looked at the monitor and jumped. In the basement one of the Lost Ones had found the camera and was gazing darkly into it, his eyes empty of all feeling and humanity. Instinctively Sasha reached for Lorne, her fingers seeking out his reassuring warmth.

-- --

In the deserted mall darkness washed silently over floors and stairwells. It dripped over railings and flickered in glass. Although outside the world was slowly returning to rights, the population surfacing and the rebuilding process at its very beginnings, the mall still lay untouched as though someone or something kept the people at bay. It creaked softly, the foundations groaning under the strain of its near destruction and its air heavy with foreboding. If anyone had cared to step inside they would have felt the chill immediately. An icy breeze which swept from wall to wall leaving a pale and transient light in its wake before fading to nothing.

'Give me time,' the breeze whispered.

-- --

He'd chosen the little room for its intimacy, so many of the Hyperion's quarters were large and unwelcoming, unlived in for so long and decorated with gilt or heavy drapes. Here in this little snug Lorne could create something unpretentious. He had filled it with familiar objects, soothing paintings, pretty little ornaments. On the mantle a troop of animals made their way two by two to Noah's arc and on the coffee table a number of magazines from months long gone proclaimed the latest headlines in soap operas and reality TV. It was all about creating normality, making the place more like a home than a doctor's waiting room.

Today he had gone to particular lengths aided and abetted by Spike of all people. Over the previous weeks they had already done so much. From the pile of evidence they had collected from the Lost Ones they had tracked down the addresses of those whose souls had been taken. Driving licences and College IDs took them to the homes of many of the adults and from there they could take photographs of loved ones, wedding souvenirs and birthday books in the hope of triggering something in the victims. Now at last they had found out the identity of the youngest victim, the little boy Novica had taken just before his reign had ended. Toby Wyatt.

Lorne had gone personally to root through his things, picking up pictures of his mom, his favourite toys, a blanket from his bed, anything that might help. Now they were scattered across the room, and Toby was perched on the edge of a seat gazing blankly at the floor. They had found out that he was just five years old. From behind him Lorne could sense the pity in Sasha as she stood propped against the door. He looked back over his shoulder to reassure his lover, but he knew that for her this was the worst of all the cases. For all of them this was the worst because the darkness pooled behind a child's eyes was so much more 

painful to witness.

Lorne knelt in front of him but Toby couldn't return his gaze. He wasn't even sure if Toby knew he was there. None of them seemed aware of their environments or needs.

'Hey kiddo,' he said softly. 'How's it going in there?'

Nothing. Sasha moved around him so that she was sitting looking at their profiles, the bent head of the child and the keen eyes of the demon.

'Do you know what Uncle Lorne's being doing today?' Lorne went on, unfazed at the utter lack of response, 'he's been finding out all about you… Toby.'

She saw his eyes flickered around the child seeking out anything that might be left of his aura. With their souls drained the lost ones were blank to him but he was working on the theory that when Fred had 'died' her aura had also vanished, cloaked by Illyria's presence. It was possible just possible that scraps of these souls remained, and if he could he might piece them together or at least find a clue as to how to fix this. Anything would help. Beneath his calm and friendly expression Sasha's own burgeoning empathic ability was picking up on his desperation to help. She sent him a message of strength as hard as she could.

In the meantime Toby had not responded to his name or to any of Lorne's coaxing. The demon stood and retrieved a photo frame, the picture inside showing a family on a summer's day, Toby at the centre laughing and waving. Lorne placed it carefully on the boys lap, taking each of his small hands and folding them around the edges of the frame. The child did not protest but held the object, doll-like as he had been instructed, utterly passive.

'Who's that then Toby? Is that your mommy? And your brother? Is that your brother?'

Lorne placed his own large hand over one of Toby's drawing the child's attention to the frame. His eyes moved as though on autopilot, following the movement but unseeing. Sasha sensed a wave of sadness in her lover.

'Hey come on sweetie,' Lorne said to the boy, 'I know you're in there.' He closed his eyes and when he reopened them a moment later he looked deeply into the child opening every psychic channel he had to read the deepest of thoughts and feelings. There had to be something… he felt as though he was walking through mud, heavy on his movements, dragging him down. It was dark in the child's mind and heart but there had to be a lights witch right? Something that would… wait…

Lorne's face twitched in recognition. A feeling? No more than that… it was a thought. It skittered out of his reach and he pushed further into the darkness. So close. So nearly there. But he didn't want to hurt the child any further. He was traipsing about in his psyche trying to wrench something from him. Maybe he should try again another time. Maybe if he spent more effort on showing Toby parts of his past, drawing the memories to the fore of what was left of his mind. Lorne started to withdraw, stepping back psychically but keeping every channel open for whatever could be found. And it was then that he heard it. At first faintly, an indistinguishable voice repeating a phrase again and again. He closed his eyes and struggled to decipher it, words buried under others, layers of thoughts trying to obscure the truth.

He grimaced, trying to pull away the layers. God this was so hard.

He felt a hand on his arm.

'Lorne?'

His eyes flew open and he stared at Sasha.

'What do you see?' she asked, concern written over her features. And it all fell into place. The voice in his mind rang clear as he looked deep into her eyes.

_I don't really love him, how can I, it can't last, I don't really love him…_

'Lorne?' her speaking voice laying over the one he heard in his head, the same one he heard in his head. He looked at her confused but the pain was there, the damage begun, it was as though she had stabbed him. He couldn't be certain; she might not know it herself, but somewhere deep inside her heart Sasha was lying to him.

'Was it Toby? Did he show you something about himself?' she was looking at the child in wonder, trying to see what Lorne might have seen in his empty eyes.

'He showed me… nothing… It's nothing,' he said, 'an echo.'

-- --

In the dark glass of the shop front the image flickered and died. Flickered again. So nearly there. Almost. The surge of cold air regrouped and threw itself again at the window. For the briefest of moments a face appeared; a human face with handsome features and the darkest of eyes. It smiled. It wouldn't be long now.

Exhausted Novica's essence allowed itself to disintegrate. It wasn't important to manifest yet. It had work to do elsewhere and it was better to be invisible for that. The laughter rang out triumphantly as the breeze rushed through the mall.

-- --

He couldn't sleep. Lorne turned roughly under the covers trying to block the thoughts coming from Sasha's sleeping mind. He had never expected this. Yeah it was all roses and kittens and sweet music while she was loved up and fluffy but a creeping doubt and suddenly this psychic connection between them was more trouble than pleasure. It was probably nothing, he told himself, the thoughts were buried deep. It was no more than an echo of her old doubts, it was early days and he couldn't expect a slayer trained to kill demons to sudden be all embracing and…

Lorne turned again. But she had been all embracing hadn't she. When they made love it was overwhelming and true. He hadn't mistaken that. Had he?

He felt his eyes burn with tears and swallowed them back. Behind him Sasha was dreaming, a dream of violence. At least she had stopped thinking those thoughts at last. He watched in a half dream himself as she fought in her sleep, secure in her mission, flying through the air 

and smacking down the big bad.

She stirred and moaned. In her mind she was flagging, her strength sapping out of her. There were too many demons, too much to fight. This apocalypse was far from over and she knew there was more to come. She was under the mirror's podium in the white room now, and the blue demons Novica had summoned were coming in droves, pushing her back towards the hell dimension, keen to be rid of her from earth so that they could get on with the destruction. She turned for help but there was no-one there and their evil just kept coming. Why was she alone here? Where were the gang? She retreated further and further towards the mirror, she was going to fall through again. Fall into that empty dimension with the thing there waiting for her. The thing with the cold fingers that wrapped themselves around her shoulder, her arm, her neck. Why was this happening? She tripped and fell, catching herself before she hit the glass, the reflection there grinning back at her.

'He doesn't love you,' it said.

Sasha sat bolt upright in the bed to find Lorne gone.

-- --

Spike yelled a battle cry and erupted into the kitchen.

'Ha! Gotcha!' he cried, hunching himself into a battle stance.

Lorne looked up from where he was mixing hot chocolate. His eyebrows raised but his eyes unimpressed.

'Oh… right…Lorne,' Spike said, straightening himself up and thrusting his hands into his tight jeans' pockets. 'What are you doing sneaking about at this time?'

'Can't sleep, and I'm hardly sneaking,' Lorne dropped a spoon into the sink with a clatter. 'I turned the lights on… and the radio,' he nodded at the little battery operated radio on the counter. 'I don't think beasties listen to Aretha at 3am.' He flicked it off.

Spike shrugged and jumped onto the large stainless steel island in the centre of the galley.

'I'm just itching for a fight. I was out staking vamps 'til about an hour ago but it's gone all quiet.'

'I'm so disappointed for you,' Lorne said seating himself, 'nothing to maim on such a nice night.'

'You do your job and I do mine, I don't take the piss out of you for soul surfing all day with the loonies.'

Lorne scowled, 'I'm trying to return their mortal souls to them Spike I'm hardly surfing the web for jollies.' He reached inside his robe and pulled out a hip flask, emptying the contents into his cocoa. Spike pursed his lips at him thoughtfully.

'Feeling rough?' he asked.

'It hasn't been a good night, no.'

'Not tucked up with your slayer girly?'

Lorne looked at him sharply. 'I needed a little… I dunno... space… time… something.'

Spike waited.

'You're not getting anywhere with your interrogation,' Lorne said.

Spike waited some more.

'I'm telling you butt out of it mister,'

Spike looked at the ceiling and tapped his hands against the steel counter. Lorne sipped the cocoa and winced at the whiskey. He stared into the mug. The dark kitchen settled around them, a stream of moonlight crossing the floor and casting its pale shadows on the walls. Beneath them the Lost Ones slept in dreamless obscurity and above them Illyria paced the lobby on watch. Lorne could feel them all, his psychic channels unable to close for the night, forced open by something unseen and bombarding him with pain. He rubbed his brows and tried to make sense of it all but his mind fell tumbling around him, until he felt only by the ache in his heart. Right now he couldn't care less about the lost souls or the battles which still took place nightly in LA. Right now all he could hear were Sasha's dreams, her thoughts, her voice. All he could feel was the loss he was sure to experience.

After a few minutes Spike hauled himself of the counter and rummaged in the fridge for some blood. He joined Lorne and produced another hip flask, topping up the demon's mug until there was more alcohol that hot chocolate and taking a swig himself. Lorne didn't move, he just kept looking bleakly into his drink. The vampire peered into his face briefly and then settled back in his chair, he didn't have to be an empath to feel a breaking heart.

-- --

'Another day another investigation,' Willow said cheerily, busying herself behind the old reception desk. She looked up at where Lorne and Sasha sat silently on the lobby couches. 'or… you know… we could brood some.' Lorne glared at her. 'Because... hey! Nothing wrong with brooding, Angel used to brood all the time, it's good for the soul,' she laughed nervously and went back to going through the Lost Ones things.

Lorne looked briefly at Sasha who didn't return his gaze. Seemed like neither of them had had a good night then. He wondered if she was picking up on his vibes, and if she was why wasn't she asking why he was hurting? Wasn't that proof that she didn't actually care? Lorne began wrestling all over again with his emotions, arguments for and against the thoughts he had caught from her last night whipping round his brain. Eventually frustrated he sprang from his seat and moved to head towards the basement. At least the Lost Ones were quiet, they wouldn't have any conflicting emotions to fill his already packed head. As he reached the basement door it flew open and he jumped.

'Touchy,' Spike said.

'Leave me alone,' Lorne muttered and made to push past him.

'Can't do that I'm afraid, got something for you,' Spike looked suddenly serious, 'I found this on my travels,' he stepped to one side. Lorne looked past him to where a slim woman of about twenty was waiting motionless on the basement stairs.

'Another Lost One,' Lorne sounded disinterested, 'Like I haven't seen one of them before, well add her to the rest I'll get round to reading her..'

'You're not getting it are you?' Spike cajoled, 'This little lady works at the butcher's downtown, supplies my blood. Popped down there early this AM to find the place deserted. Being a hungry sort I went looking 'cos there's not a lot of places open yet in town and I need my supplies. Found her wandering round the bins out back…' he waited for Lorne's response and getting nothing went on, 'she's new is what I'm saying. She's not one of those Novica did the mojo on at the Mall, I was only talking with her a couple of days ago and now she's all doolally.'

Lorne looked back at the girl taking in her neat hair and dress. It couldn't have been long since it happened.

'We don't know it's Novica,' he said, 'there's a lot of things out there sucking brains.'

'What about souls?' Spike asked, 'You see one in there?'

Lorne looked, reluctant to open the psychic channels he had been struggling to close down all night, but he didn't have to look too deeply, there was nothing there.

'Nothing, right?' Spike said smugly, 'And get this, when I brought her through the basement she headed straight for Them, like a little homing beacon.'

'Take her to my office, if this was only done in the last couple of days I might be able to get more from her than the others…'

'Fresh victim eh?'

'Yes if you must.'

Spike lead the girl through the lobby to the curiosity and alarm of Willow and Sasha who apparently needed less convincing than Lorne. Sasha sprang to her feet and grabbed the demon as he followed them to his Reading Room.

'Did you see that?' she said, 'That girl, Novica's drained her.'

'We don't know it's him,' Lorne said disengaging himself from her touch and continuing down the corridor, 'It could be any number of apocalyptic thingies.'

'You know it as well as I do Lorne, she has all the signs, he's back. I told you from my 

dreams he was still here.'

Lorne looked between her and the latest victim who was being guided into a chair by Spike. She folded her hands neatly on her lap and gazed, like the others before her, at the floor.

'I need to read her,' he said.

'Ok,' Sasha waited.

Lorne bit his lip. 'Without you here.'

It was as though he had slapped her, he felt her reel mentally. 'But I always stay, in case, well in case something happens.'

'Nothing will happen,' Lorne said, desperate now to get her out, he couldn't bear opening his mind to look for this girl's soul with Sasha's thoughts in the room. He just knew he'd end up reading her, feeling that pain instead of concentrating. 'Please, I need the quiet; if someone else is in the room their feelings will distract me.'

'It was never a problem before,' Sasha said quietly.

'I don't want to get this wrong,' Lorne tried, 'she's fresh and I might miss something if…'

'Fine,' Sasha said suddenly, a wave of hurt flying from her aura, 'Fine I get it, whatever,' and she walked briskly from the room. Lorne shut the door gently behind her retreating figure and leaned on it briefly. He felt her move away down the corridor and deep into the hotel, out of his reach. At last he turned again to Novica's victim.

'OK sugar,' he said, 'let's get started.'

-- --

Fred trotted out of the donut shop and into the sunshine. It felt good to be alive, good to be in LA and good to have her body back at least half of the time. Illyria didn't really get a buzz out of buying foodstuffs. She flipped open the box and picked out a jelly, the others would never notice if she rearranged the donuts to cover the gap. They'd just be excited to see donuts at all, the shop had been closed for so long and now it was reopening Fred was proud to be one of its first customers. It was a true sense of normality. She was half way down the street when she felt Illyria waken.

_Not now, _she thought at her._ Just give me 'til I get these back to the hotel huh? Then you can come out and play._

She felt the goddess move within her. It was a peculiar sensation and when she had tried to describe it to Willow she had only created confusion and fear in the witch. It wasn't really as bad as all that, not since Illyria had grown accustomed to human ways and less ambitious about destroying the world. She felt her in waves, like strength and knowledge, sometimes it could be exhilarating to share the memories of thousands of years worth of existence and to Fred's physics orientated brain the ins and outs of dimensional being was too fascinating to 

resist. At the same time she sensed that Illyria was keen to learn about human life, her derision for people had been gradually replaced with curiosity. She always wanted to know why. And Wesley intrigued her particularly. Fred had been angered by the goddess's insistence questioning on the subject of his loss until she had realised that Illyria grieved. A strange and half baked form of grief that lacked form and understanding, but then, as Fred had discovered only too painfully for herself, grief was always half baked. Human beings struggled with it, so Illyria was quite lost. The parasitic relationship was becoming symbiotic although Fred was constantly aware of the power Illyria had.

Another wave as the awakened goddess insisted on Fred's attention.

'What? What is so important it can't wait a half hour?' Fred hissed out loud. She looked round furtively hoping no-one had heard her. Suddenly her body spun and the donuts went flying, Illyria was not to be put off, she broke through and reclaimed the shell, Fred's hair blanching blue and her skin shimmering in the sunlight. A passer-by shrieked and ran off but Illyria ignored his protests marching firmly in her direction, towards the mall.

'We will acquire more of your foodstuffs,' she spoke openly to the woman within her, 'But we must see this and report back to your people,' she sensed Fred's curiosity and smiled a half smile, 'You will see.'

On the steps of the mall now she kicked hard at the doors, barricaded roughly by Spike when they had left it weeks before. It was still utterly deserted and the heavy door fell with a loud bang onto the faux marble walkway behind it. Illyria stepped over it and stood in the dark lobby.

'Do you feel it?' she asked Fred. She looked down at the skin on the back of her hand and watched as the tiny hairs there prickled in the cool air. 'Yes you do.'

With a single snake like movement she turned her head to cast her vision up and over the mall's structure. Her cold eyes glittered. She felt the shell take a deep breath as though scenting the air.

'You are here, aren't you?' she said softly, 'Husband.'

On every surface she could see frost glittering coolly in the gloom. Every pane of glass shone whitely with its mark, and from the railings above the icicles hung thickly. A breeze moved swiftly towards her but Illyria did not allow the shell to flinch, instead she stood firm as it circled her with interest, his form flickering in and out of existence, now in front of her, now behind, his face now distorted on the air, and now beautiful.

'You grow stronger again,' Illyria remarked, 'tell me how.'

A light echo of laughter.

'You were destroyed,' she said, 'I do not understand what ties you here to this plane,' she turned slowly following the shimmering breeze as it moved around the frozen mall. 'But I will find out and return you to where you belong.' She waited anticipating a move or a word from him but got nothing.

'You are not welcome here Novica,' she said simply, 'this realm is theirs, not ours,' and she strode swiftly from the building.

-- --

Willow knew better than most how do deal with a prickly slayer. She'd had many an experience calming, reassuring, encouraging and comforting Buffy in her years as number one sidekick and best friend and she knew just what Sasha needed now.

Willow plopped the muffin down in front of her.

'So you want to tell me what all this is about?' she said openly.

Sasha looked at the muffin for a second before giving in and picking thick chocolatey lumps off it with her fingers.

'It's Lorne,'

'No really? 'cos I thought that icy atmosphere between you two was of the normal and fun disposition…'

Sasha looked at her through narrowed eyes. Willow changed tack. 'OK so things aren't all rosey, we're in the middle of a mass apocalyptic clear up operation and things are kinda stressful. There's going to be tensions. Any new relationship has its tensions especially when you've got the pressures you guys have on you…'

'It's more than that Will, there's something really wrong. I think…' she paused, chocolate melting on her fingertips. 'I keep having these dreams, about being back behind the mirror, and I don't know if he senses them I don't know if they come from me, or from him or what, but I keep waking up in a sweat and…'

'What are you dreaming?' Willow looked at her keenly, slayer dreams were often of the bad and prophetic kind.

'I dream that he doesn't love me, and I'm trapped there in the dimension alone, and I'm so certain of it when I hear it…'

'Lorne tells you he doesn't love you in your dream?'

'No it's more…'

They were interrupted by Lorne's sharp step on the lobby floor. He had left the reading room and was headed for the coffee machine. The two women watched him mutely, Willow reading the tension in his movements and Sasha trying desperately not to read the misery in his aura. He knew she was there but he refused to acknowledge her.

_Go to hell,_ his thought arrived suddenly in Sasha's mind, _You lying bigoted bitch._ Sasha glared at him, more hurt and shocked than angry. She just wanted to figure this whole thing out; she couldn't understand where it had gone wrong. She loved him so much. Why couldn't 

he see that in her aura?

Lorne poured the coffee and pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping down on the stool by the reception desk and leaning over his mug. He let the steam caress his face. He didn't know how much more of this he could do, every time he reached into one of those lost creatures he came out more and more depressed, like their hopelessness was contagious. And now on top of that he kept finding her voice, it seemed it didn't matter how far away she was physically he couldn't help but pick up on her thoughts. This last time he had been exploring the new victim and finding nothing when again from out of the blue Sasha's resentment of him came flying dagger like from the darkness. The voice was bitter and filled with disappointment, telling him over and over how she had let herself and her lineage down by ever being with a demon. It had hit him so hard he had yelled and fallen backward off his chair, looking up moments later to find the Lost One as blank as before, completely unaware of the psychic's tumble.

Willow looked between them, slow thoughts forming in her head. Something didn't match up, they were both hurting so much and it was so unnecessary. If she could just talk to Lorne a little.

The Hyperion doors opened and Fred half stumbled down the stairs in her rush to tell her message. She threw a battered box of donuts on the desk and clapped her hands for attention.

'Um… listen up y'all,' she said. Three pairs of weary eyes looked at her questioningly.

'Where's Spike he should hear this too,'

'You rang?' Spike emerged from the office.

'Ok, good,' Fred pushed back her hair, 'Well y'all know how I was out at Mr. donut,' Spike flipped opened the box and surveyed the squashed contents.

'I get the feeling something else came up,' he said closing the lid.

'Well actually Illyria came up; she made me go to the Mall.'

Lorne raised his head suddenly, 'The Mall?' he asked quickly, 'Why what does she want with the mall?'

'She wanted to show me something, she could sense it,' Fred said, 'Ok Ok I'm telling them,' she said to herself. 'When we got there the place was dark and empty and really, really cold, silly cold, like the middle of winter. There was ice all over the floor and windows…'

Sasha stood slowly from her seat, her face white. 'Ice?' she looked hard at Lorne who for the first time that morning looked straight back at her.

'Ice,' Fred confirmed, 'and she walked us right into the middle of it where all these giant icicles were dangling off railings and such and this wind starts blowing, real gentle at first, and it's kind of shimmering as it moves…'

'It's him isn't it,' Lorne interrupted. 'Novica? He's back.'

'He's back,' Fred confirmed, 'Illyria recognised him and spoke to him, asked him what was tying him to this place when he was destroyed before. But he just laughed…'

'What is tying him?' Spike said, 'The bloke's worse than Dracula for making dramatic comebacks, if he's not banged up in a hell dimension he's floating around the local mall, when will he take the hint and bugger off?'

'Lets just think about this logically,' Willow said, 'when he was freed from the dimension, the one Illyria put him in, how did he do it?'

'He took advantage of the apocalypse Wolfram and Hart began,' Lorne said, 'the shifts in the dimensions they caused allowed demons to enter his empty dimension, he was no longer alone and the mirror offered him a way out if he could just break the spell...'

'And then when we closed the mirror you were taken to the other side with the demons,' Sasha said.

'Yeah well that's where demons belong isn't it, hell dimensions?' Lorne said sharply. Sasha glared at him defensively and he ignored her. 'So with me there he gets the one thing he needs to escape, a soul…'

'He took part of mine too,' Sasha said quietly.

'Yeah big mistake,' Lorne said. Sasha bristled.

'He means for the sake of the world and for you,' Spike jumped in, 'You know you went there to rescue him and ended up getting your soul sucked and beginning the apocalypse again, not fun…'

'So what we're saying,' Willow said before the atmosphere could become any more aggressive, 'Is that the combination of Lorne's and Sasha's souls released him into this dimension. And when Spike released those souls from the talisman he was destroyed.'

'Apparently not,' Sasha said.

'Yeah we got out souls back so why is he still here?' Lorne asked irritably.

Spike looked suddenly stunned. He looked from Lorne to Sasha and back again.

'Because he's inside you,' he said, 'the big bad has some sort of connection with you both. It's you that's keeping him here…'

Willow grumbled from the other side of the room, 'Steal my thunder much. But yeah that's the theory. You two are linked to him somehow through the time you spent as part of his manifest being. Just like you two are linked psychically now for the same reason… You particularly Lorne, he had all of your soul and he even took your glamour as his face…'

Lorne looked down at his hands in misery. 'I wish I'd never bothered with that thing, in so many ways. '

_I wish you'd kept it on,_ _then I'd never have to look at your ugly demon face, _Sasha's thought spun across the room. He flinched and looked over to where she stood but she wasn't even looking at him. Willow caught his eye.

'What do you hear?' she asked.

'Nothing,' Lorne dismissed her. 'So how do we defeat him… again?'

'Well if you two are what's keeping him here I vote we kill you both,' Spike said cheerfully. For a moment there was nothing in the lobby but silence and a strong sense animosity. 'Kidding,' he said suddenly, 'kidding!'

'I don't know,' Willow said, 'I need more to work on.' Lorne sighed deeply and cast his eyes up to the ceiling. He ran his hands through his hair and back down over his horns and face. Sasha fidgeted nearby. There was an uncomfortable pause.

'Well!' Fred said, 'I'm going to er… see what Illyria has to say on the subject. 'She lifted the lid on the donuts, stole a couple and left. Spike slunk back into the office. Willow went behind the desk and lifted a couple of heavy texts.

'Better get researching, I think the key might lie with Fred and Illyria. They share a similar type of connection, I'm real close to separating them, so if I make any progress I'll…' she hesitated, the atmosphere was heavy and awkward. 'Guys please,' she said her tone altering, 'just talk… just tell each other what it is you really feel.' And she disappeared up the stairs after Fred.

Lorne and Sasha looked at each other from across the room.

_How could you do this?_ the thoughts hit them simultaneously.

-- --

The doors of the mall swung open and the man made his way down the steps without protest. From the shadows within Novica watched as he returned to the passing crowd unnoticed but empty. It had been so easy to lure him in with the power of his essence alone, how simple it was all becoming. He raised one hand and commanded the door shut again, looking with pleasure at the fingers which were almost flesh. His transient image now pulsed instead of flickering, spending longer whole than dissipated. Things must really be bad for the demon and his slayer, could it be that his plan was working? He glided over to a window and looked at his reflection. Yes, he could feel it now, the strength between their souls was waning, he had cast enough doubts their way and they were foolish enough to accept them. Now, without their love opposing him, he could reach further into this realm.

'Phase two,' he said to his image, pursing his lips prettily and cocking his head.

-- --

'Are they still arguing?' Willow came to join Fred on the landing where she was leaning over the rails watching proceedings below.

'I've never seen Lorne like this,' Fred said, 'Something's very wrong.'

Willow looked down into the lobby where Lorne and Sasha were at stand off, both bristling with rage.

'What have they been saying?' she asked.

'Weird stuff. Stuff I can't really believe, Lorne said she couldn't see past the fact he was green and that she'd never get over it, Sasha just got vicious and said she should never have believed that a demon was capable of love,' Fred looked at Willow with big wide eyes, 'I just don't know where its all coming from, I mean Lorne? Lorne practically _is_ Love, he has time for everyone, he can see everyone's point of view, he could never wish harm on a living soul…' she stopped, 'apart from Lindsay, and he didn't want to do that, maybe it's changed him,' she frowned sadly.

'No,' Willow said, 'This runs deeper. It doesn't make sense, why would they suddenly be at each others throats when they were so loved up before. You saw them together, it was as real as it gets. I've seen a few trouble causing spells in my time, and I think this might be one of them.'

'A spell? But why? And who?'

'Who do you think? Who's back in town and who's connected to them?'

'Novica?'

Willow nodded her eyes still on Lorne and Sasha. She was screaming at him now, a blind rage driven by pain, tears streaming down her face.

'I need your help Fred,' Willow said, 'And yours Illyria if you can spare it.'

'I think she's willing,' Fred agreed, 'She doesn't like the way my stomach feels all icky just watching them fight like that. What do you need?'

'A way of separating them.'

Fred looked at her puzzled, 'they seem pretty separate to me, at each other's throats but not actually… oh you mean… separate… '

Willow nodded looking back up. To her amazement Illyria's image hovered beside Fred.

'The witch means separate… like this… she wants to untangle Novica from the shells just as she wishes to untangle me from you Fred.'

Fred stared at her. 'Wow,' she said. 'That's weird.'

'You said you couldn't do that!' Willow cried, 'You said you could only leave Fred's body when you were crossing over to the hell dimension and that in this dimension you were tied to her!'

'I am…' Illyria said, 'I mean I…' she looked at Fred and her counterpart suddenly understood.

'She knew the journey to the other side would probably kill the 'shell,' or destroy what's left of my soul,' Fred explained while Illyria shot her an angry look, 'she didn't want me to die she'd kinda gotten used to me. But she can exist this way if she needs to…'

'I prefer the shell.'

'Yeah well I kinda get that too,' Fred smiled, 'it wouldn't be much fun being a supergod without a body, you can't do much for starters.'

'So what..? You guys are friends now?' Willow gaped.

'The human adapts,' Illyria said. 'She benefits from my power and wisdom. We have an agreement and…' she suddenly looked sad.

'I think we'd miss each other,' Fred said coming to her rescue, 'in a funny kinda way.'

'But how do you do it?' Willow asked, 'because if there's a way we need to get Novica out of Lorne and Sasha, they are what are binding him to this dimension and…' she looked back at them raging below, 'well I don't like to think of what will happen if this goes on much longer.'

'There may be a way,' Illyria said, 'But it will be hard to force him from the shells if he does not wish to go.'

'What Illyria does is voluntary,' Fred said. Willow bit her lip and thought, the raised voices echoing off the high walls.

'We're going round in circles!' Sasha was yelling, 'and I don't know where any of this stuff has come from!'

'From you sweetie, for all the bits you try to keep hidden. I'm an empath for god's sake you think I can't see the truth? It doesn't matter how deep you bury it I know how you really feel!'

'Well you obviously don't!' she spat back at him, 'how could you even think that I would say or think those awful things!? And what about you huh? You don't love me, if you did you could never doubt me this way! What did I do wrong?' she screamed.

'You know what,' Lorne returned, 'from day one it was there. Ever since you fell for the 'other' me, that damned human face. I should always have known you'd never be able to deal with the demon, you with your mission and your violence, how did I ever think we'd rub along?'

'Um… guys…?' Spike's voice interrupted Lorne's flow of anger. 'I really hate to butt in when you're both doing so nicely slagging each other off and all, but I think we might have bigger problems on our hands than your love life.'

Lorne spun on him about to release a tirade of annoyance and then halted, stunned by what he saw. Spike stood before them, his duster ripped and the blood tracking down the t-shirt he wore beneath it.

'I hate to say I told you so…' he said, 'well actually I don't…so I told you so… those loonies that were so harmless? They just went all psychotic on me.' He gestured with his thumb towards the monitor at reception. 'went down to give them a feed, seeing as you two were making my head hurt, and they all went nuts. Grabbed the knife I took down to cut up their bread, started carving themselves up with it. Well it didn't seem right so I tried to grab it off them and one of the buggers stuck it right in my chest.' He parted his jacket s they could see the wound. 'I'm lucky they don't make wooden knives.'

Lorne looked into the black and white world of the basement camera and shuddered. They had obviously managed to retain the knife and were now inflicting the damage on each other with primitive intent.

'Shouldn't we go down there and stop them?' Sasha said alarmed.

'I get the feeling it won't last,' Lorne said, 'It's not random what they're doing, look,' he pointed, 'they're hieroglyphs.'

'Eh?' Spike said.

'Like these,' and he opened just enough of his shirt to show the wounds Novica's demons had carved into his flesh. They were almost healed but the scars were raised and pink against his green skin. Spike winced. 'they'll stop when they're finished, it's a ritual thing they're not trying to kill each other or us,' Lorne said, 'But I think we're going to have to move fast because…' he winced again, 'Novica has other ideas and I think he's on his way…'

_Clever boy,_ came the thought, and this time Novica didn't bother to disguise his voice with Sasha's.

-- --

'Did you hear that?' Sasha squealed, 'He's in our heads.'

Lorne was leaning heavily against the reception desk one hand to his temple. 'Yes, yes he is.'

'How much time?' Willow said urgently.

'He's on his way, I can feel him, oh god,' Lorne seemed to stagger as though a weight had been dropped on him. Sasha had time to reach out and grab him before the image hit her too. Novica's face clear as daylight, clear as the reflection she had seen in her dreams, the one who had told her…

'It's him, it's him that's doing this to us,' she said clinging to Lorne, 'it was his voice not yours, his voice. You have to believe me; he's been playing us both.'

Lorne looked up through a haze of pain. 'Please,' she pleaded, 'we're bigger than this, he's trying to push us apart, but we won't let him win, come on Lorne, fight him.'

Behind her Willow was throwing together spell ingredients, Illyria darting ethereally around the lobby issuing instructions. Fred dropped to her knees in the centre of the room and began arranging sacred objects.

'Quickly,' Willow shouted. The lights began to dim as she worked, Fred looking up with fear at the dull glow in the chandelier above her. The building seemed to tremble around her, the vibrations juttering painfully through her limbs as she knelt. Illyria swept past her, her essence brushing Fred's hair as she went. 'He cannot hurt you,' she said, 'not while I am here.'

Willow was motioning Sasha and Lorne to where she had laid her spell. 'Come on, we have to do this now, we have to get him out, without your connection he can't exist… I'm… well I'm almost sure of it…'

'Will this even work?' Sasha said helping Lorne to where Willow stood waiting, 'you don't know what will happen, you're doing this all last minute on her command,' she looked at Illyria, 'how can you trust her, what if it backfires, what if it strengthens him?'

Willow looked quickly over to Illyria and watched as the goddess stepped swiftly back into her shell. Fred and Illyria combined and Fred's body straightened bravely to face whatever might come next.

'We can trust her,' Willow said. 'Now please, trust _me_.'

At that moment they all felt it. The doors of the Hyperion flew open and a gale of icy wind filled the lobby. Sasha struggled for breath in the cold, the bitter chill scouring her throat and lungs. Willow raised a talisman; its cord entwined around her fingers and began the incantation which would draw Novica from her friends' souls. As she mouthed the first words there was a shuddering bang and the Hyperion doors sealed shut.

Novica stood before them in whole and human form.

'Well hey,' he said, his voice eerily like Lorne's, 'It's so good to see you all again,' he opened his arms wide and smiled, 'did y'all miss me?'

The light beamed from Willow's talisman and split three ways, it pinpointed over Lorne and Sasha's throats and for a second they both felt like they might choke. The third beam headed for Novica but he reached up with one hand and held it above him looking curiously at Willow.

'Oh witch,' he said sadly, 'you have power and brains it's true, but you are a little late. The clues were all there for you. I needed them yes, the demon and his slayer, I was tied to them and at the same time they held me at bay… but I no longer need these two to keep me here, I am now as much a part of this dimension as you are.'

He squeezed his hand into a fist and like glass the light shattered. Willow gasped and Sasha and Lorne fell limply to the floor. Novica stepped down into the lobby his eyes on Illyria. 

'Your chance is gone, three beings once shared a brief existence, two souls and a god, a god once weakened and on the point of destruction but now the god grows mighty… the oldest trick in the book… I bought time while I healed. It will take something a lot more powerful to banish me now,' he said. Willow raised an arm in preparation to strike but he waved her into freeze frame. Illyria's sudden aggressive movement was stilled in the same way. Novica turned his back on them and approached the monitor.

'Oh just look at them all,' he said proudly, 'such a dedicated little band of followers.' He passed a hand over the screen and from the bowels of the basement they heard the doors unlock. 'You see Willow I still have them, deep within me. The paltry connection I held with Lorne and Sasha was only illusion and trickery, an echo of the time we shared. Something for you all to get your teeth into, something mysterious and pretty.' He turned and play acted sarcastically.

''Oh Lorne how could you say you don't love me?' 'Oh Sasha will you never see my true heart under all this nasty green skin?' 'Oh no guys what will we do, they're falling out we have to help them see their love!'' He belly laughed cruelly. 'Tut tut… it was all so distracting wasn't it!'

Behind him Lorne was crawling to his feet, half dazed. Novica looked at him sadly. 'I had thought it would be harder. I had thought that together Lorne and Sasha would be a more worthy adversary. For a while I could not break them but then I realised that I didn't have to… that I was wasting my energies on them just as you did. Illusion, all of it… that bond between them, their bond with me…. the real source of my lasting power lay with them.' He looked at his victims. One by one the Lost Ones were gathering in the lobby, their clothes stained with blood and their eyes blank. 'I still have _their _souls.' Novica spun and applauded them all with a slow handclap. 'Well done gang,' he said, 'beautifully executed beautiful… but hey, there's still plenty of work to be done!' He winked over his shoulder coquettishly. 'Dimensions to rule, lives to ruin,' he looked at Lorne, 'So glad to have started with yours.'

Illyria spoke next, menacingly from across the room, her essence lifted easily from Fred's body and drifted towards him, remaining always just out of his reach. 'They are stronger than you think Novica, these ensouled beings, you cannot destroy them with your tricks and deception alone.'

'Foolish queen,' he said eying her with pity, 'you have lived too long in that shell and believe in their low values and pathetic emotions. Why do you choose to stay with it now when you are free to roam and find yourself a more agreeable host?'

'My host is agreeable,' Illyria replied, 'I have learned much from these lower beings.'

'Oh Illyria,' he sighed, 'How far you have sunk. How can you respect them? It takes little to unsettle the creatures, this magical love affair between the demon and the slayer trembles at the merest breath of wind. Do you think if it had all been true they could not have withstood me? It was all lies, Illyria. They have no real faith in each other. I could not have broken something so powerful now could I? Not in my weakened state.' He looked down at the pair on the floor. Sasha was moving towards Lorne in a slow crawl. Reaching out for him filled with remorse and sorrow.

'All lies,' Novica repeated softly, 'the seed of doubt between them was planted long ago. All 

I did was nurture it.'

Sasha looked up into Lorne's eyes and what she saw there was more painful that any illusion Novica had cast. He looked back at her desolately, desperate to dismiss Novica's words and yet unable to. It was the worst of feelings, to look within herself and within him and know that those illusions were true.

The Old One lingered for a moment longer, his connection with their souls still intact, savouring that pain. Finally he motioned to the Lost Ones to follow him from the hotel, a surge of freezing wind filling the place and settling like frost on every surface. Icicles formed on the levels above them, just as they had in the Mall. The sparkling ice covered the floor and the people on it, it settled in their hair and twinkled on hands, backs and lips. Their breaths escaped in frozen puffs and drifted to the ceiling. At the doorway Novica lifted the spell which held Fred and Willow motionless, knowing they would do nothing to stop him from leaving; they had no weapons powerful enough in the face of his being.

'I do not need to drain their souls to remove all hope,' he called, 'they do that themselves.'

The door closed and the lobby remained in glittering frozen silence. Sasha began weeping softly and Lorne sat motionless on the floor. With interest and something close to compassion Illyria watched as Fred and Willow moved to them, embraced them, whispered words of comfort and resolve. Already she could tell that Novica could not destroy them as he wished, but she could also tell how close he had come. He was free in this realm but it was not his place. She had ended him before and she could do it again. She owed it to these weakened beings, it was not their job to fight the wars of gods and although she did not yet know how she would defeat him she sensed that… she paused startling herself, her delicate eyebrows raising in very human surprise.

'I still have hope,' she said, cocking her head curiously and making a contented noise. Illyria looked back at the group, picking themselves off the floor and preparing to piece back their lives and start again, 'I begin to understand.'


	5. Chapter 5: Hope's Champion

_The door closed and the lobby remained in glittering frozen silence. Sasha began weeping softly and Lorne sat motionless on the floor. With interest and something close to compassion Illyria watched as Fred and Willow moved to them, embraced them, whispered words of comfort and resolve. Already she could tell that Novica could not destroy them as he wished, but she could also tell how close he had come. He was free in this realm but it was not his place. She had ended him before and she could do it again. She owed it to these weakened beings, it was not their job to fight the wars of gods and although she did not yet know how she would defeat him she sensed that… she paused startling herself, her delicate eyebrows raising in very human surprise._

'_I still have hope,' she said, cocking her head curiously and making a contented noise. Illyria looked back at the group, picking themselves off the floor and preparing to piece back their lives and start again, 'I begin to understand.'_

The figures drifted in and out of focus and in response Willow added a thimbleful of coloured sand to the mix. Above her the link to the coven grew sharper, floating as it did mirage like and three dimensional at the centre of the lobby. Fred sat on the stairs, her chin cupped in her hands watching as the witches played another round of 'we've got a demon hell god on the loose, what the heck do we do?'

'Time will show us the way…' said one, dark haired and exotic.

'… Novica is a creature of eons…' agreed another.

'… he can wait yet…'

Fred sighed. She had no idea how Willow got anywhere with the British witches. All they seemed to do was waft about making herbal ointments and spying prophecies. Didn't they realise that the longer they all waited the more powerful Novica became? It was growing colder by the day. Fred shivered, she hadn't thought it possible for it to be any colder, everything sparkled with ice and snow and it was always so dark. She looked again at the mirage of witches. Day after day Willow suggested spells and magics which might at least cause some damage to Novica or hold him back somehow, restrain his power on earth to manageable limits, anything. And each time she suggested it she was met with hostility from her counterparts.

'…the way is not in violence Willow, remember your training and do not slip again into the dark arts…'

'Sometimes you need to fight a little darkness with a little... well… darkness…' Willow was saying exasperated, 'and I need you guys on side, I need a little power loan here. We have to find a way to take the edge off of him and that means magic… big powerful dangerous magic…'

'Time will show us…' they began.

Willow made a frustrated noise and kicked over the little tub of sand. The mirage vanished. She stood staring at the mess on the floor, her hands on her hips and her bottom lip caught 

between her teeth.

'I swear they'd have me heal him with a rose crystal or something,' she muttered moving to the reception desk and turning the monitor there to face her better. On the screen an almost empty shot of the hotel basement. A single figure sitting motionless on the floor. The last of Novica's Lost Ones, the girl who had worked at Spike's favorite butcher's until Novica had drained her of her soul and her hope. Spike had brought her back for Lorne to read and she'd been secure in the Reading Room when Novica had appeared to reclaim his victims. They couldn't afford to let her out to roam the building, but it felt bad keeping her a prisoner none the less. Willow looked at her steadily, her mind half on her and half on the problem at hand. She knotted her brow and leaned on the counter.

'If wishes were horses,' she said to herself and withdrew into the office.

Fred looked at her sympathetically while at the same time she was conscious of Illyria's essence flitting around on the balcony above impatient and dissatisfied. The whole business 

did seem to be taking forever and she was mildly surprised Illyria hadn't insisted on taking matters into her own hands long before now. Weeks had passed since Novica's return and they were in exactly the same position as then except his influence was spreading and they were still stuck in a frozen Hyperion.

The lobby doors banged open and Fred watched as Spike stepped though the magical barrier Willow had erected for protection and warmth. As he emerged from it the shimmering gold light parted long enough to let a gust of icy wind come with him. The temperature in the lobby immediately dropped ten degrees and Fred pulled her coat around her tighter. They were never warm. No matter how many fires they set and burned the place was barely inhabitable. But she knew it was worse outside, far worse. The streets were abandoned by all but the demons and the dead. Spike was the only one who could bear the chill long enough to go out there. He stood over the fire in the hearth and rubbed his hands. There was ice in his hair and eyelashes and his skin was tinged the faintest blue. Fred watched as he began to thaw, as a vampire his body temperature reflected his surroundings. Fred put him at about minus fifteen right now.

'How's it going out there?' Willow joined him with a gratefully received cup of hot blood.

'Same as usual,' Spike said, 'Empty as hell, save for the frozen dead body types in the streets,' he blew on the steaming liquid and took a sip, folding his hands around the cup and watching as colour returned to his fingertips. 'Few more demons I reckon,' he went on, 'I seem to come across a few more each night, reckon he's building up his forces some more so he can stretch a bit further out of the city but he doesn't seemed too fussed to have big numbers…. I kicked their little blue arses but honestly I don't think it'll make much difference. He doesn't need an army, he just needs a few helpers and this bloody weather. Californians? Not know for their love of snow…' he remarked and took another gulp. 'What about you? Any joy with the Witches of Eastwick?'

'Nothing,' Willow said, kneeling by the fire and curling her legs under her. 'I feel like we're in a total rut.'

On the stairs Fred felt Illyria glide towards and within her, settling her essence along her limbs and looking out at the scene through her eyes.

_They make no progress in this war,_ she said, her voice clear and resonant within Fred's consciousness. _It frustrates and saddens them. I feel it in you Fred. No matter, let them keep trying. Let them be occupied and they will not prevent us. Our preparations are nearly made. Soon things will change and we will begin the end of his reign._

_We shouldn't go alone,_ Fred thought, _It's a long way and we're not certain of what will happen when we get there. We need a little back up, I might not be enough..._

_We have back up,_ Illyria confirmed.

-- --

The room was freezing and dark but she could sense him on the far side of it, his back to her, seated by the window. As her eyes adjusted she could make out his sharp profile against the glass and the slow intermittent exhalation of his breath. It swirled like mist against the pane 

as though trying to escape, trapped and weakening as it dissipated slowly and faded. She watched as another breath came, never learning from its predecessor, trying to find a way out before falling into nothing.

'Lorne?' Sasha moved carefully around the obstacles in the room, approaching his still figure. He sensed her but did not move. At last she reached him and sat on the window ledge looking down into his face. His eyes never left the unknown spot beyond the glass. She could feel his sadness humming softly in his aura, his defensiveness rising as she had grown closer with each footstep. Things had never been right since that day.

Though they had fought it at first they both knew that Novica had thrust a splinter of doubt into both their hearts and that his illusions had been based on a truth neither wanted to admit. They were from different worlds, held different values. Both intrinsically lonely they had clung to each other and prayed that it was love, and perhaps it had been, but something now was missing and they both feared it would never return.

Hurt and anger at the words formed by those illusions had mellowed on the discovery of Novica's return. And so the bitterness had mellowed into pain but that pain remained unshaken. They both understood that the voices they had heard had come from him. So they had tried to go back to their old ways, their old undamaged love. They tried to repeat old memories. Sasha recalled how wonderful it had been, that secure and all encompassing feeling of security, desire and peace. They had retreated into the frozen hotel and they had made love trying to recapture the past. As they lay there she had looked for it in his aura and found it missing, as she knew it was in hers. The damage was done. It wasn't her fault and it wasn't Lorne's. Trying harder each day just seemed to make it more impossible. So now they drifted from each other, leading separate existences within the body of the hotel and yet never able to let go of the other. The thing which had once offered them such joy, their empathic link, was cruelly as strong as ever now.

'Lorne?' she tried again. She felt him steady himself and at last he looked up at her. 'It's freezing here,' she said, 'Why don't you go down to the lobby, there's a fire there and the others are back now. I… well I'm going to get some rest.' She knew that he found it difficult to be in the same room as her, she found it hard herself. If he thought she was sleeping elsewhere he might venture below for food and warmth.

'I'm OK here,' he said softly.

'They're worried about you.'

'They are,' he said, more statement than question. He looked back out of the window, 'They are,' he repeated softly.

She was almost glad of the dark then, aware as she was of the subtle changes in his face. She feared what he would look like in the light, if his pain had transferred into his features. But worst of all she dreaded to see what she felt in him then, the utter loss which clouded his being, the sense of guilt, responsibility and of hopelessness. He blamed himself for it all she knew, right from the start. He blamed himself for Novica, for his victims and for the pain Sasha now felt inside. Every time he looked at her he could see it burning and there was nothing he could do to make it better. Now it was as though he had given up the fight, overwhelmed by the evil he'd been trying so hard to stop. It was excruciating to see; it was 

worse to feel that within him.

Sasha had been right to say yes to Illyria, she couldn't bear to stay here any longer. With every thought she hurt him more and she was powerless to stop it. If she was gone then maybe… she looked again at his face, his eyes watching Novica's frozen world beyond the window pane with impassive emptiness.

Impulsively she took his hand, feeling his skin cold beneath her fingers. He jumped as though hurt and drew back, their contact lasting seconds at most.

'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I'm sorry for all of it,' and then her words ran dry. He was gazing at his hand as though she had burned him with her touch.

'It's no-one's fault, it's just the way of things,' he said.

'If I could make this right…' she began and stopped herself. She wanted so desperately to tell him what she and Illyria had discussed but the god had sworn her to secrecy. The risks were so high, she knew that the team would try and stop them and she didn't want to add worry to the mixing pot of emotions that churned in Lorne right now. She had wanted to make this conversation clean cut and simple but every time she was near him things just felt messy. It was best she went with Illyria, she could function as a slayer when he wasn't near, she could complete her mission and try and fix this whole mess. But if she stayed she didn't trust herself. If she stayed all she wanted to do was put her arms around him and sob until the pain eased. But it would never ease, she felt as though it would never ease; nothing would change unless she made something change. Sasha struggled a moment longer trying to rein in the emotion, but when she glanced back Lorne was looking at her curiously. Instinctively she stepped away, a futile gesture to try and hide her aura from him.

'I don't know what you guys are planning on doing sweetie,' he said, 'So don't worry on that score, it's none of my business and I won't tell a soul that you're leaving…'

Sasha looked guiltily down at her feet, wondering if she should explain and trying to read if he was irritated or hurt at the exclusion. In answer he stood slowly, his limbs stiff from the long hours in the cold room. Hesitantly she allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace, his arms slipping around her waist and his chin dropping to rest on her shoulder.

'Thank you for saying goodbye,' he said.

Lorne closed his eyes as he held her, her feelings washing over him though he sensed her struggling. How he wished that all of this could just end now, that they could just go back to the way things were, that the love he felt certain was within them somewhere could be rekindled without all the doubt and uncertainty and hurt. Maybe one day if this hell on earth ever ended, maybe somehow they could find a way.

Sasha's breath hitched in her throat as she tried to hold back the tears. His need was overwhelming and she wanted nothing more that to reach up and kiss him. If only a kiss would make everything right. Her hand rested on the nape of his neck, her fingers touching the hair there lightly, his body warming against her now in the icy room. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and felt the wave of understanding run through both of them as they separated. She held his eyes for a moment in the darkness before she turned and left.

This was worth fighting for. They just had to survive.

As he heard the door click behind him Lorne was certain of one thing he had read in her. Not everyone would.

-- --

Spike slugged back the last of the blood and sauntered over to reception. Most of him was defrosted by now. He gave his leg an experimental shake to see if the feeling had returned and not for the first time wondered if vamps got frostbite. His feet crunched in Willow's sand as he walked.

'Lorne's going to freak when he sees that,' he mused, setting the mug down on the counter. He looked at the staining in its base thoughtfully, the deep red of his drink seeping into the cracks of the white ceramic. Might do Lorne a bit of good to freak about something, all he did was brood in his room. Anyone would think he'd been possessed by Angel the way he went on. Spike's internal monologue was sarcastic but deep down he acknowledged the worry. It wasn't natural for Lorne to be this way. Angel was born broody, all melancholic Celtic moods and so on. But Lorne was the life and soul in normal circumstances. He smiled ruefully remembering the party at Wolfram and Hart the Halloween before. As much as life in general pissed Spike off Lorne had always been a good sort, he wanted him to be OK.

Movement on the screen next to him caused him to look up. He watched as the Lost One, Miranda, pulled herself to her feet and shuffled towards the camera.

''ere Red?' he called through to the office, 'has our houseguest been fed lately?'

Willow emerged, magical volume in hand. In the harsh light of the lobby she looked tired, dark circles forming under her big green eyes and her hair mussed up from the bobble hat she had to wear most of the day.

'Not yet. Is she on the move?'

'Looks like,' Spike said. Willow came around the counter and looked over his shoulder at her. The pair stood in silence; it was the same routine every evening. The girl would start to get restless, move around her cell. One of them would feed her, she'd settle again. Not exactly a packed or fulfilling existence for any of them. Spike ran a finger round his mug and licked off the remaining blood. Willow raised one mildly disgusted eyebrow and folded her arms.

'I'll go down in a bit,' she said, reluctant to head down there where it was even colder.

Miranda was making her way along the back wall of the basement now, almost completing a circuit. Her thin body was draped in about a dozen layers of sweaters and scarves Willow piled on her in a bid to keep her warm, but she didn't much care for them and over the course of the day would try and remove them all until her skin shone palely with cold and her frame shuddered with it. Not that it was a battle to put them on her again; she was as impassive as a rag doll.

'He never did get anything from her did he?' Spike said.

'I don't think he did, no, but then events kinda got in the way, Novica and you know… stuff…'

'He should have another go…'

'I don't think he's in the right frame of mind somehow.'

'Sod his frame of mind, she's the only link we have to this bugger now, Lorne needs to pull his weight. I get that he's all dejected and heartbroken, I get that he's…'

'Been to hell and back? Lost the woman he loved?' Willow offered.

'Who hasn't!' Spike protested. 'I like Lorne, I don't like to see him this way, as much as it pains me to admit it, so for his own good, and for the good of everyone generally including that one,' he jabbed a finger at the monitor, 'he needs to get off his brooding arse and read her again.'

Willow shook her head and looked back at Miranda who was swaying at the centre of the basement, her clothes littered around her like fallen leaves.

'Look at her Spike, you really think there's anything there?'

'Well we won't ever know if he doesn't try,' spike said.

'He's right,' Lorne's voice met them from the top of the stairs. They turned and saw him taking each step one by one, his hand leaning heavily on the banister. Willow's eyes opened in shock and spike saw her quickly compose her face again into a smile of welcome. He hung back as she trotted over to meet Lorne half way. 'he's right I've been up there too long, and if other folks…' he hesitated, 'I mean if you guys can keep trying then so can I right?' a ghost of his old smile passed over his face and vanished. Willow held his arm and walked him over to the couches. Her eyes met with Spike's and he didn't have to be psychic to pick up her concern. Lorne trembled as she helped him down, sitting painfully and gathering himself.

'What do you say we get us some food,' Willow said brightly, 'big apocalyptic doings to be done; can't be done on an empty tummy,' she busied herself clearing papers and volumes from the little coffee table and looked urgently at Spike.

'I'll um... go feed the girl,' he said, 'You guys get yourselves set.'

'How are you hanging in there,' Willow said conversationally, 'it's good to see you back, must have been so cold up there, I can't get the heat to penetrate this place at all.' Willow chatted on amiably, her eyes flitting across Lorne every now and then as she went about getting them food. He looked so thin, so weak. When she had held his arm she had felt him shake with the effort of getting to the lobby. How long had he been up there now? Three, four weeks? Barely touching anything, sitting in the cold. She didn't quite understand his demon physiology but that had to take it out of him right? 'Hey did you see Fred on your travels she wouldn't want to miss this, you know what she's like for anything edible...'

'Maybe she's sleeping,' Lorne said, his eyes on the table. Willow bustled to his side holding a plate of something hot and set it by him. He smiled in thanks and half listened to her talk, bringing him up to date with events. But in the corners of his mind he was listening psychically. He listened to the dark presence that was Novica, vast and non specific; and to the flicker of Sasha's aura as she readied herself for departure. Her thoughts were too distant to catch but he knew she was still in the building.

At first he felt as though each mouthful would choke him, he'd almost forgotten how to chew and swallow and the food felt alien to him. He had grown accustomed to the feeling of emptiness but after a while the food began to thaw him from within. Willow's warmth distracted him from the oppressive feelings of misery which had pressed on him alone in his room and she'd almost succeeded in raising a smile when he flinched hard. At that moment Spike rejoined them, his eyes looking from Lorne to Willow's look of concern.

'You ok, green?' he asked casually.

Lorne blinked and looked up at him, the tentative smile returning. 'Yeah I'm… I'm feeling better for this…' he gestured at the food, 'I'll be back to normal in no time.' Willow sighed with relief and piled more onto his plate, Spike slinging himself into an armchair and lighting a cigarette.

'You tuck in then,' he said lowly, 'got a lot of work ahead of us all.'

Lorne nodded, dropping his eyes again. He felt vulnerable still, but he would try to hold it together a little longer, give them a head start before Spike and Willow caught on. With him here they were focused on his return and less bothered by the very apparent absence of Sasha and Illyria. He looked at his fingers holding the fork, and the shine of the silverware. He smelled the scent of rich food, the freshly burning tobacco across from him and he felt the warmth penetrate his knees where the plate rested. Beside him he could feel Willow's aura half relaxing, half preoccupied with magical quandaries and possible spells, beyond that Spike's, a champion's presence, and beyond that...

He took another mouthful, the food tasting now of nothing, dry and flavourless on his tongue.

She'd gone.

-- --

He lifted the child's arm, bending it at the elbow and forming a salute. Novica leaned back on one foot and tilted his head. He ruffled the boy's hair a little, pursing his lips like an artist and judging the effect before growing bored and wandering off. The little boy remained motionless in his pose. One of dozens kept in darkness, the source of his power.

As the god king approached his throne a half dozen of his followers scurried out of his way, opening a path before him which lead up to the podium where the dark mirror still sat. This white room was so much more his style than the mall, the mall was just a means to an end, but now that he had drained enough victims to survive he had decamped here to watch over the gateway to the hell dimension he had finally vacated. He slumped into the throne and waved away a couple of particularly persistent demon acolytes.

'Stop fussing around me will you? If I want something I will say.'

They fell back passively forming a neat circle around the podium.

Novica's eyes flicked up to the mirror. He rearranged his robes and let one long leg dangle over the arm of the throne. He tilted his head back and cast an eye over his attractive human reflection, running his fingers through his soft dark hair and smiling coquettishly. Playfully he blew his reflection a kiss. A small sphere of darkness flew over to it and shattered into the glass, immediately turning it black. For a moment the skies of a hell dimension churned darkly on the other side before the clouds cleared and the picture of a barren basement could be clearly seen.

'Let's see what's been happening over at team Lorne shall we?' Novica said cheerfully. His demons leaned forward hungrily to watch, smiles jagged and wet. The god glanced up over his shoulder at one particularly hideous creature and snapped his fingers. 'Get me a drink will you? Something with vodka… and hurry the show's about to begin.'

In the mirror Lorne's figure could be seen entering the room. Novica raised a hand quickly and adjusted the volume, the demon's voice rising eerily from the shimmering glass.

'Hey sweetie, how's it going in there?' he was saying.

'He doesn't think that's really going to work, does he?' Novica scoffed, accepting the tall glass from his follower. 'I'm surprised he's trying again after last time. Could have some fun with it though; stick a few nasty thoughts in his head. Worked a treat with his slayer didn't it. Well didn't it?' he asked the gathered demons. They nodded enthusiastically to please him. 'What's she up to anyway?' he closed his eyes for a second and felt for her, he still retained the small connection to both Lorne and Sasha although it had already served its purpose weeks ago. Odd she didn't appear to be near Lorne. 'Oh my I really did split those two up,' he laughed unconcerned, 'I can't feel her in the building at all and neither can he, poor lamb, never mind, love's young dream is over!' he opened his eyes and watched Lorne's face as he spoke to the Lost One.

'So we found out your name is Miranda,' he was saying. 'And we want to help you. Spike's been out gathering some of your stuff, maybe it might help to see it, hmm? How does that take you? So why don't you come with me…' he reached out and the angle of the picture changed as Miranda stood with his aid, 'yeah that's right pumpkin, you come with me to my special room and we'll have a look at some pictures. Maybe you'll remember…'

'More likely I will,' Novica quipped, the souls of his victims were still deep within him, and with them every memory they held, tightly under lock and key but available to browse through in quiet moments. He particularly liked the painful ones. Loss, death, heartache, they made him feel warm and fuzzy on a dull afternoon.

In the mirror Miranda was making her way through the hotel, casting her eyes at Novica's command over the walls and entrances. He had to hand it to them the witch had done a pretty good job, from what he could gleam the spells keeping them safe were strong, but what did it matter if his own spy was within. Pretty thing that witch, not classically beautiful but quirky and attractive. He watched Miranda pass her in the glass, bent over a book trying to figure out 

some way or other to save the world. He grinned and took a sip of his drink.

'Oh there's Spike!' he said pointing with the index finger of his drink hand. 'He's an interesting one, look at that soul. I really regret not getting that one,' he sighed, 'next time.'

'In you come, sweetie,' Lorne's voice invited and the scene changed to his Reading Room. Novica settled back in his throne as Miranda sat down. Lorne appeared in front of her.

'Look at me honey,' he tried.

'Oh go on look at him, make his day,' Novica said idly.

In the reading room Miranda raised her blank eyes to Lorne. Lorne tried to mask his delight.

'OK well how I normally do this is I take you through a few of your things. I've got some right here, shall we look?' Lorne picked up a photo album from a small table and smiled encouragingly.

'Jeez is he always this patronisingly sugary? It's making me queasy.' Novica groaned.

'This here's your mom, see?' Lorne's finger pointed out a middle aged lady. 'and this must be you, maybe a few years ago, looks like you're still in high school there, getting ready for your prom or something? Did you have a date sweetie? Shall we look and see if there's a picture.'

'This is du-ll…' Novica moaned. 'Have a look round the room will you?' while Lorne's head was bent over the photo album Novica commanded Miranda swing her eyes around the room. She did so and the place was littered with more of the same. Pictures, newspapers cuttings, ornaments and toys all taken from the homes of the victims. Novica pouted and commanded her eyes return to the photo album before Lorne could notice.

Lorne left the album open on a family shot and laid it across her lap. He sat back just out of view and Novica could hear him sigh. Lazily he reached out to feel a little of Lorne's hopelessness and smiled with pleasure.

'There has to be something in there,' Lorne's voice drifted sadly across the white room, 'you can't just be gone, I won't believe you're just gone. Can you hear me peach pie, could you tell me if you did?' His soft tones were met with silence, the peace of the reading room, and the eerie hush of the demons who watched him in the mirror.

In the dark, out of earshot of Novica's followers, a child struggled with his first words since the day in the mall. If he could just say those words, if he could just make his lips work, maybe someone would help. Maybe that big green guy from the hotel could help. He didn't want to be here anymore, it was cold and it was scary, and the other people never moved but he could feel them behind him in rows. He was glad to be at the front where he didn't need to look at them, but it meant that tall guy with the cloak kept coming over and playing with him. Making him stand in funny positions or teasing him.

'Can you hear me?' Lorne was still trying.

'Lorne you're wasting your time!' Novica chided the image like he was watching a favorite soap opera, 'When are you going to realise they're all gone, they're all here,' he pointed at his chest, 'they're in me. Give up you big moron! Or actually don't… 'cos this is funny.' He laughed and slugged back the rest of his drink, his followers laughing with him sycophantically so that nobody heard Toby Wyatt's first words.

'I… I can… hear you…'

-- --

It was cold but nowhere near as bad as LA has been on their departure. The sudden rise in temperature was the first thing Sasha noticed upon landing, quickly followed by a wave of nausea which brought her to her knees. Illyria waited patiently while the slayer vomited into the long grass.

'I hate shadow paths,' Sasha said between gasps.

'I thought a slayer would deal with them better,' Illyria said, her tone unimpressed. 'Your shell is curious and does not withstand dimensional travel. It leaks.'

Sasha sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth with her cuff.

'It does yes.'

'It leaks in a violent and unpleasant manner,' Illyria went on.

'Yes thanks I noticed that.'

'My shell has not leaked.'

'I'm sure it's leaked before now.'

'Not since I have inhabited it,' Illyria said.

'Well bully for you,' Sasha got to her feet wishing Fred would make an appearance and that Illyria would go off and be all essencey for a while. It was going to take ages to find this place. She scanned the empty dark fields, stretching for miles and interrupted only by the occasional tree. 'We get through all this I'll have Lorne mix you some margharitas and we'll see how leakproof your shell is then.' She set off across the grass.

'I have never understood the human need to poison its shell with alcohol.'

'You've not been human long,' Sasha said, 'Or at all really when you think about it… give it time, this world will get to you.'

Illyria looked at her curiously and opened her pale mouth as though to continue the conversation when suddenly her features turned warm, her eyes brown, and her hair shook itself free and brown.

Fred appeared smiling. 'Hey,' she said to Sasha before quickly turning to face Illyria's disembodied essence. 'we need to find this place quickly, Illyria, why don't you go track it down and then get us, you're going to sense it better than we are and you're faster.'

'I do have superior qualities,' she agreed, 'and the slayer is off putting and ill.' Illyria vanished with the breeze.

'She's a little nervous,' Fred said, 'I know she doesn't seem it but she's worried this won't work and is too proud to say. She really wants to make things right, but she's struggling with _why_ she wants to make things right. I think I'm getting to her.'

'Well keep up the good work, 'cos right now Illyria's plan is the best one we have.'

'It's the only one we have,' Fred sighed, 'But I think she knows what she's talking about. This is where Angel and Spike came when they were trying to end her existence, so it's only logical this is where we should be to try and end Novica's. In a funny way it's kinda brave of her to bring us here…'

'Brave?' Sasha asked.

'Well yeah, this is where she was interred. She spent millennia buried alive somewhere beneath us waiting for a chance to live again.'

Sasha looked at her doubtfully, 'I... I guess but… aren't we forgetting she's a demon goddess? Do we really have much sympathy for a demon goddess?'

Fred smiled gently. 'I don't expect you to get it, I wouldn't get it either, but Illyria is evolving. It's like being crammed in my body with me she's forced into being exposed to the whole range of human feelings. And she's applying those feelings to herself. It's like living with a really troubled teenager. She's getting there; she's trying to make amends. I'm not saying we forgive her for the mass slaughter of millions or her reign of terror on earth all that time ago,' Fred said brightly, 'But this is a different era for her. A different existence, and she's learning.'

Sasha shook her head and they walked on, pushing through the knee high grass, their legs damp with dew. Overhead the sky was heavy, the moon faint and struggling through the clouds.

'Well I guess I'll see for myself,' Sasha said, 'If this works.'

'You will,' Fred replied.

A sudden flare like a brilliant blue firework shot up from the horizon about a mile away. It illuminated the sky and scattered like teardrops across the meadow.

'That's it,' Fred said, 'Illyria found it. The Deeper Well.'

-- --

Lorne had been trying for well over an hour and Miranda still made no response. She sat as 

impassively as she had the first day she had arrived, brought in by Spike. He supposed that at least this time Novica's illusions were gone; he no longer heard Sasha's voice taunting him cruelly when trying to read another. But he almost wished that he did. Her real voice at least. With her gone the hotel seemed empty. Even though he had spent the best part of the last month trying to avoid her, hiding in his room, blocking her thoughts, he had always been aware of her. Now she was out of reach. It frightened him more than he thought it would. He felt incomplete.

A sharp knock on the door and Willow popped her head around it.

'How's it going? You want some tea? Whenever Giles was working I'd bring him tea, he said it was soothing.'

Lorne laughed softly, 'Something a little stronger is more my tipple sweet pea, but thanks anyway. No I'm not getting anywhere,' he sighed and pushed himself up with his hands to stand. 'There's nothing, I'm looking deeper and deeper, really pushing every psychic ounce into it and still nothing. Don't know what's left to do really.'

Willow came in all the way and stood looking at the Lost One.

'I guess you just have to keep trying. Day by day, build up your own strength a bit first though. I was surprised you did this tonight you look exhausted.'

'I am but…' he hesitated, 'Well I felt I should make a start.'

'You're avoiding her aren't you,' Willow said, 'it's Ok we understand, but I think she's doing the same, hiding upstairs or something I haven't seen her all night.'

'Well… I… um…' he stuttered.

'I think maybe its time you guys got used to being in the same room again, after all you can't keep running off in different directions, we're all on the same side…'

'Well I… I know you're right but...'

'Good!' Willow grabbed his arm, 'let's take Miranda back to the basement and then you and Sasha can have a nice sit down and figure out how to live with each other in a civilised and adult manner,' she grinned cheekily before adding, 'I know it's not easy, but if it's any help I think she feels the same as you in all this, I think you guys can work this out really I do…'

'Willow I…'

'Now come on… oh!'

Willow jumped as Spike hovered in the doorframe, arms folded.

'Got ourselves a little problem,' he said looking hard at Lorne. 'Seems the blue tit and the slayer bird have flown the nest, haven't they green?'

Willow looked at Lorne, 'They've gone?'

'He'd have sensed them go,' Spike said, 'especially her, all that psychic stuff, he must have.' He raised his eyebrows at Lorne, 'so where are they off to?'

'I don't know,' Lorne said, 'honestly,' he added quickly, 'I didn't look. I just felt them go. It's for the best.'

'Oh yeah, great our two strongest weapons and you let them wander off!' Spike cried. 'We're in the middle of a bloody war here in case you hadn't noticed, 'just 'cos you can't handle your personal problems doesn't mean you can let said personal problem bugger off. We need her and the demon chick!'

'Illyria had a plan,' Lorne said, 'That's all I know. It's nothing to do with Sasha and I, she needed Sasha with her to make it work and Sasha agreed. I don't know where they are but they're trying to hurt Novica… isn't that what we all want?'

'What I want,' Spike said, 'is for us all to not die, and splitting up in the face of a demon hell god's take over bid is a sure way to do just that. Die.' He stormed out the room his words echoing in Lorne's ears and reminding him of what he had sensed when Sasha had held him. Someone, one of them, was going to die. Spike was right.

-- --

The tree looked exactly like any other tree dotted about the English landscape. Sasha paced around it once and rejoined Fred by the 'entrance' by which Illyria hovered.

'You're sure?' Sasha queried.

'This is the entrance to the deeper well,' Illyria stated, 'I can feel them beneath me.'

'So we're really going to do this?'

'It is the best plan.'

'And this isn't some ruse just to get your demon powers back at full mojo and take over the world yourself… 'cos you know… it crossed my mind.'

Fred shot the slayer a look which Sasha ignored. It was a valid point she felt needed making. Illyria cocked her head and considered for a moment. 'I would rather destroy Novica,' she said. 'it would give me more pleasure.'

'Nothing stopping you from doing that and then taking over the world,' Sasha said.

Illyria gazed at her levelly. 'You do not trust me. The shell trusts me. Why not you?'

'I guess 'cos you don't live in my head.'

'You will feel differently when I do,' Illyria said. Sasha felt her skin prickle. Fred stepped in to avert the tension.

'Look guys we have the plan, let's stick to it. We go down the well, we ask for Illyria's full powers to be restored and she brings an end to Novica.'

'You missed out the bit where she borrows my body. That bit's kinda important,' Sasha said.

'I'd do it myself,' Fred said, 'but the last time she was at full power my body wasn't strong enough to contain her and she started spontaneously combusting and shifting dimensions and time. You're a slayer, you can withstand her.'

'The combination of a slayer and an Old One will certainly be enough to destroy him,' Illyria said.

'Yeah well just don't get too comfy in there.'

'I am bound to the shell Fred,' Illyria said, 'I will return to her.' Sasha looked between the two beings; in the moonlight their features were even more similar, pale and delicate. A thought occurred to her and she opened her mind in the way Lorne had shown her the first night they had made love. He had trained her in his borrowed empathic abilities and if she focused…

Sasha gasped. Fred's aura shone brightly in the night, pretty blues and pinks and turquoises undulating softly; just like Illyria's. She looked again, a dark red and purple glowing menacingly around the demon goddess, just as it now did around Fred.

'Do you see?' they asked her.

Sasha nodded, closing off the psychic channel she had used. 'I think I do,' she turned to the tree. 'Now how do we get in?'

-- --

In LA Lorne sat bolt upright in bed, the sudden image yanking him from sleep. Illyria and Fred at the entrance to the Deeper Well. He let the covers fall from his shoulders and sat shivering in the night, the sweat running in tiny streams down his back. The hole in the world. That's where they were and it was Sasha sending the image. For whatever reason she was using his borrowed power. He closed his eyes, still shaking, trying to make out the detail of the picture but it was fading. She had blocked the channel.

But she was still alive.

-- --

'Dear god,' Sasha breathed.

They were standing on a flimsy wooden bridge suspended high above a million coffins stretching through the centre of the earth.

'Old Ones,' Illyria said walking in front of them. 'Thousands of them, slain in battle and interred here. They are not dead, we only sleep.'

'All of you are here?'

'Not all, many are in other dimensions, banished or abandoned. 'Those who remained on earth and were defeated or weakened, they lie here, waiting. My followers chose to resurrect me; they will have no such followers and will wait forever.'

Fred leaned over the rail, fascinated and disturbed at the same time. 'This is where you came from,' she said.

'No, this is merely where I waited.'

'Illyria,' a deep voice greeted her from the end of the bridge. 'I felt that it was you and called away the guards to give you passage.' The Keeper stepped forward. 'You have tired of your stay?' he asked. 'Your resurrection disappoints you?' He waved one arm over the side of the bridge and from below the sound of stone on stone could be heard. It echoed up the tunnel, harsh and grinding. 'Your sarcophagus awaits you, you may sleep once more.'

'I am not here to sleep,' Illyria said. 'I am here for my power.'

The sarcophagus drew level with the bridge and Sasha caught Fred's eyes as they fixed on its lid. She had not seen it since the day Illyria had infected her and it filled her with intense instinctive fear. In the meantime the Keeper viewed Illyria with suspicion.

'Your form is not fit for powers, they were removed from you for fear you would be destroyed.'

'Yes.'

'Why do you now wish them?'

'Novica reigns on earth,' she replied.

'Yes, I hear whispers.'

'I wish to stop him.'

'Your old husband and rival. It was you who banished him before. You wish to do it again.'

'I wish to end him. He has no place in this dimension.'

The Keeper nodded. He was not one to get involved in the wars between gods and demons, he merely watched over the sleeping. This rivalry stretched to the past before time began and he took no sides with good or evil. He looked at Fred, the shell Illyria's followers had chosen for her. A beautiful and aesthetic choice but not one fit to hold a creature as powerful as Illyria. The fools. They chose badly.

'It is simple to restore your powers Illyria, but the price is high. The Shell will be destroyed and with it you. You will have only hours to complete your task.'

Sasha stepped forward on the bridge.

'We thought of that. Use me.'

'Slayer,' the Keeper said thoughtfully. 'Your body will contain Illyria for a day maybe two at most…'

'That will be long enough,' Illyria said.

'And if it isn't?' the Keeper asked.

'It will be. When I am finished with Novica I will return and have these powers removed.'

'Removed?' he said incredulously.

'I do not wish to damage the shells,' Illyria said simply.

He paused eyebrows raised. 'Very well,' he replied, 'follow me.' He led them over the bridge to the chambers beyond where all manner of ritual devices and artifacts were stored. Motifs and objects from the reign of gods long gone, powerful items rendered useless by the death of demons. As they entered torches flared suddenly casting orange yellow light over gold and silver. Illyria's ghostly hands trailed over and through the riches, a faint smile of remembrance on her lips.

'I will prepare the spells,' the Keeper explained as he moved around the room, 'first I will restore Illyria's power to her essence and then she will bind to you,' he looked at Sasha. 'Only madmen and fanatics have ever asked to be bound to this demon,' he said, 'you seem like neither…'

'I have my reasons,' Sasha remarked.

The Keeper grunted and went on with his spell.

-- --

Bloody errands. What was he a bloody errand boy now? Bugger all to fight with everything frozen so Lorne had him rummaging through houses again for belongings. When was Big Green going to realise none of this was working and Miranda was Lost.

Spike kicked a pile of snow angrily and trudged on through the city.

Well he was mistaken if he thought he was just going to hang around. Especially after tonight's little display.

'Yeah!' he agreed with himself noisily as he stomped along the street, his coat billowing after him. ''Oh they've gone,' he mocked Lorne's reasoning, ''Terribly sorry I forgot to notice. Yes I know there's only a few of us left facing down the big bad but I didn't think it would matter if the slayer and the big powerful demon goddess girly took a quick holiday.' Argh! A little communication amongst the ranks Lorne! A little respect here and less time licking your broken heart which I seem to remember is in your bloody arse!'

Laughter rang out over the dark and frozen street. Spike halted.

'Who's there?' he called. 'Come on out, 'cos I'm just itching for a fight.'

There was a crunch of snow and a figure emerged from a doorway opposite.

'Alrighty then, bring it on, come to Spike…'

A dozen smaller figures, hunched and spindly emerged around the taller central one.

'Oh... got a few on your team eh?' Spike bluffed, glancing around himself for exit points and weapons. 'Well not to worry, plenty for all.'

Novica glided forward a few paces until the moonlight fell on his face.

'Shut up Spike,' he said joyfully, 'You know you're screwed. Yes you honey are well and truly… what's the phrase?' he looked round his demons for inspiration until his eyes landed on Spike again. 'Oh that's it… well and truly buggered.' He giggled with delight. 'I love that word! Don't you guys love that word?' he asked his followers, 'Oh… go jump on him.'

The demons rushed upon him, hungry to obey orders and see their master fulfilled.

'I have so been looking forward to this soul,' Novica rubbed his hands together although the cold air barely touched him. At his feet Spike kicked and struggled under the grip of the god's supporters. 'I know how much you wanted it, how your heart broke for her, the things you put yourself through for her love. Didn't work did it?' he jeered, 'so if you don't mind, I don't think you'll be needing this any longer,' he plunged his hand deep into Spike's chest and the vampire let out a strangled cry. Novica closed his eyes in ecstasy. 'Oh… that's… good,' he moaned softly, 'Oh yes…'

-- --

A surge like electricity ran through Illyria's essence and although they were not touching or entangled Fred could feel her power. It was overwhelming and intact. Illyria experimentally vanished and returned, flitted back in time and forward, bent dimensions and twisted the past for the fun of it before settling again in the Keeper's chamber.

'It feels good?' he asked, turning and brewing his second spell.

She smiled broadly, the most vibrant and whole expression Fred had ever seen on her face. 'I am whole,' she said, 'I am powerful again. This time he will be ended. He does not belong.'

Sasha felt suddenly weak. The bright eyes of Illyria turned to her and looked deep within, preparing the way for her temporary joining to the slayer's vital physical force. Yes this was going to be tough, Sasha realised suddenly, this thing in front of her was more powerful than any she had encountered.

'I am also more powerful than he ever was or is,' Illyria said reading her. 'It will be brief. Our strengths combined will end him and you may return to your demon clown.'

Sasha blanched at the mention of Lorne.

'You think I do not understand Love,' Illyria said, 'Its trials and powers, you think I do not understand that it is him who brings you here?'

'It doesn't matter what brings me here as long as you know why you're here Illyria,' Sasha said irritably, her emotions suddenly and inexplicably close to the surface. Illyria was unnervingly perceptive in this new and prevailing form.

'Love, hatred, power,' she replied, 'they are all one thing.'

'Ready?' The Keeper asked and Sasha nodded.

'Let's do this.'

-- --

Novica had returned, another victim stumbling, crawling by his side, propelled by the kicks and jeers of his demons. From where Toby had been positioned he could see the man's bright blonde hair, his head hanging low as he tried to pull himself along. He had seen lots of people do that, it's what happened when Novica ate.

'I just love that coat,' Novica said as he watched Spike struggle, 'it's all about the coat,' he suddenly bent and pulled the leather duster from the vampire, spinning his body easily as he wrenched. 'How good would I look in this coat?' He swung it around his own shoulders. 'Oh…Bit snug,' he said irritated. 'But I like the look, I could work with that.' He hitched up the collar and approached the mirror posing and peering at himself. 'Stick him with the others,' he directed, 'he'll soon calm down.'

The demons pulled Spike to the magical enclosure containing the other lost ones and left him there, returning to their king who was adjusting his dark hair in the glass. Now that he was close Toby could see it was the man from the hotel, the one who worked with the green man. Maybe he had tried to help. Toby felt sad. Soon there would be no-one left to help.

The man lay motionless for a while, just out of Toby's eye line. At first he thought he had imagined it when he saw movement and then it came again. Slowly the man raised himself from the floor.

'Bloody stupid demon god things,' he muttered, 'You suck a soul out of a vamp an what do you get? One very pissed off vamp. You forget matey I was working on the side of good long before I got my spark, I chose to get that thing, it wasn't a curse, it was a choice. I want to be a better man. I'm going to be a better man…'

'C…can you h..help me?' Toby asked quietly, with all the force he could muster behind his frozen empty face.

Spike spun and stared at the boy, recognising him instantly as one of the Lost Ones from the hotel. But he'd never heard them speak, never thought for a second that they had anything left inside of them like humanity or soul. He told Lorne again and again to stop bothering to look, 

by all means try again with Miranda but these older ones were a waste, they were gone.

He bent over and looked deep into the boy's eyes.

'Toby isn't it?' he asked. 'How in God's name did you get back in there?'

'The… g… green man…. h... helped me,' he managed, his energies draining by the second.

Spike looked amazed for a second, 'Well blow me! Go Lorne!' he looked around at the other faces, dozen upon dozen of Lost Ones now, far more than at the Hyperion, he guessed Novica got peckish regularly. They could all be saved. Lorne could save them.

'Now all we have to do is find a way out,' he mused. He looked back and forth across the vast and featureless white room, Novica at its centre, the mirror intact and imposing, his small army surrounding him 'Hmm,' Spike concluded, 'Might be tricky.'

-- --

Sasha closed her eyes and waited as the Keeper anointed her. The mixture was thick and pasty, a concoction of ancient herbs and magics. She felt his fingers mark her forehead and her mind cast back to the marks Novica had made in Lorne's skin. The slayer grit her teeth. This was going to be unpleasant. She could feel Illyria's essence beside her already, she hadn't even entered her body and it hurt to sense the power. How had Fred ever coped with this. She was one brave little Texan.

The keeper stopped and there was a lengthy pause. Finally she opened her eyes to see what the hold up was.

'You are absolutely sure you wish to do this?' he checked.

'Yes, I've already told you, we have to stop him…'

'But you know the risks? The damage she may cause you…'

'Yes, yes…' Sasha's fear made her impatient.

'You surprise me, I thought that humans valued life so highly that…'

'Will you just do this?' Sasha snapped.

The Keeper's eyes flickered with doubt and he hesitated a beat longer. 'If it is what you truly wish. Your sacrifice is great, I see that.' With those final words he lowered his head and began the incantation.

From across the chamber Fred watched in awe as Illyria's essence grew brighter. She could barely look at her as she rose into the air, her form shifted and turning, now Illyria, now a swirl of mist, circling faster and approaching the slayer. Was this what it had been like for her? Fred couldn't remember past the pain of it. She was struggling with this plan if she were really honest, to put Sasha through this seemed harsh but she knew she would be of more use to the cause. She just hoped that a temporary possession by the Old One would not do to the 

slayer what it did to the physicist.

With a final rush Illyria's essence entered Sasha. The slayer collapsed instantly her body jerking with the invasion of the ancient demon. Fred started forward but the keeper laid a hand on her arm. This would not last, Illyria would settle into the fibres of Sasha's body and the shell would walk with two beings at its centre. But Fred could barely stand to look, Sasha's fit was not subsiding and from her lips bright blood seeped in rivulets over her chin.

'There's something wrong!' Fred cried, suddenly aware of Illyria's turmoil, she could sense the Old One's panic through their connection.

The Keeper let go of her arm, his face grim. 'I had feared this but the slayer was adamant.'

'This shouldn't be happening, what's going on? Why isn't this working? Can't we stop this?'

There was a sudden flash and Illyria's essence spun wildly form the slayer's lips, shooting like a fountain towards the ceiling of the chamber with an anguished cry. Sasha's body grew limp and her head fell to one side, the blood still trickling. Fred dropped to her side and cradled her, trying to bring her round.

'You did not stay?' the keeper asked Illyria's chruning essence, 'you had her permission.'

'She was not… aware…' Illyria's voice struggled, her form gradually reshaping. 'If I had stayed…'

'The soul would have died, but she knew this,' the keeper went on, 'Really Illyria I am surprised by this infection of humanity within you.'

Illyria responded by sending a blast of magic in his direction knocking him back against the chamber wall. 'We will find another way,' she hissed.

'Wait I don't understand, you never said this would destroy Sasha's soul,' Fred said, 'What were we thinking of if that was the case, are you guys insane?'

'Not _her _soul,' Illyria said, her voice low as she concentrated on securing her essence on that plane, 'The other, the weaker one, it is half formed and would not withstand me.'

'What?' Fred looked confused, 'what other soul?'

At the edge of the chamber the Keeper was getting to his feet, bruised from Illyria's power.

'She didn't know did she?' he asked, 'I understand now.'

'Didn't know what!?' Fred cried, Sasha's head stirring in her arms.

'About her child,' Illyria said, 'Her shell holds two souls, hers and the child's. If I had stayed, I would have ended her being.'

Fred blinked, staring from Illyria to Sasha. 'And you couldn't do that?' she said.

'You think I should have?'

'No! I mean… God no! I just... I didn't think you would feel that way… I thought you wanted to end Novica so badly that…'

Illyria glided over to where Fred was crouching on the floor. 'You could not have done that to the child,' she said, 'so I could not do it either. You are my guide in these matters Fred. You are my… humanity. I was once ashamed to feel such things, but now… I am different.'

Fred looked down at Sasha's face, her eyelids flickering as she tried to rise to consciousness again.

'We needed her,' Fred said, 'What do we do now?'

Silence fell on the chamber. Without a vessel strong enough to hold her power Illyria could not do battle with Novica. She would be unable to use her powers to banish him to another dimension. She would be unable to kill him because he had no place on this plane, no sarcophagus among the millions that lay beneath them. They had traveled all this way and for nothing; his reign would continue. Illyria watched as the cloud of hopelessness settled again on Fred and she felt it burn within her essence.

'I vowed that I would not let humans fight the wars of god's,' she said, 'There will be a way. Rejoin the others,' she instructed Fred. Illyria turned to the Keeper who was rubbing his back and grimacing. 'You,' she commanded, 'You will find me a way.'

The Keeper waited until Fred helped Sasha from the chamber and then turned to his former charge.

'You will give anything to end his reign?'

'Yes.'

'Your life?'

Illyria waited, her eyes level with his and steady. 'Yes,' she said. 'But not the shell's.'

'There is a way.'

-- --

'Okie dokie! It's time for the latest episode of 'Misery at the Hyperion Hotel'' Novica clapped his hands with delighted and settled back into his throne. 'Hey and bring the vampire over I think he might like to see this!'

Spike was hauled to Novica's feet. He moved as though to attack him and Novica froze his movements with a wave of his hand.

'Naughty,' he said, 'no touching.' He directed his powers at the mirror and once more it flickered, churned and cleared into view. The Hyperion lobby was spread before them.

'Have we got any popcorn?' he asked, his big brown eyes wide.

-- --

The protective spell split open and let them through, Fred's arm wrapped around Sasha's waist to help support her. The shadow paths and made her feel ill again and she trembled lightly with cold and effort. Fred didn't know what to do, whether to tell Sasha about what Illyria had discovered, she had barely been conscious when they had entered the paths and she was still confused and uncertain. She supposed she would pick her moment, for now all she wanted to do was make sure they were home safely.

Willow was waiting for them in the lobby a jumble of concern and anger and affection. Spike was missing, Lorne was still weak; she felt alone and responsible for everything. She had so much to handle. By her side the Lost One Miranda, following her aimlessly wherever she moved.

'We've been so worried about you guys,' Willow said rushing forward, 'first Lorne didn't tell us you were going and then we hear you're at the Deeper Well…'

'How did you know that?' Sasha said sharply, her weight heavy on Fred's shoulders.

'We're still linked,' Lorne said, his tall figure emerging from the office. 'You used your powers there for some reason, you were looking at Fred's soul, and that opened a channel to me.'

'Oh…' Sasha said shortly.

'I'm not mad,' he offered, approaching her cautiously, 'I think I understand what you were trying to do, but I can't say I'm not glad that it failed for whatever reason…' he stopped his eyes flicking over her body and a light frown knitting his brows.

'Me too,' Willow chimed in, 'Illyria at top power coursing round your body, even you would find that tough, there's no telling what it might have done, it could have destroyed you and her and then…'

'Oh my god…' Lorne whispered.

Fred looked quickly at him and saw that his eyes were fixed on Sasha. She shifted under his gaze, extracting herself from Fred's support and standing awkwardly in the centre of the lobby.

'What?' she asked him concerned and irritated.

Lorne stepped closer, his sight taking in the shimmer of her aura, blues and peaches cascading over he shoulders like water, the colour of her eyes sparkling in its depths. He followed the colours down until they merged and changed.

'I didn't think it was ever possible,' he said so quietly she could barely hear.

'What's possible?'

'You don't know do you? Come with me, sweetie, please,' he added when he sensed her reluctance. Lorne took her hand and lead her towards the office. She followed a little unwillingly and waited while he positioned her in front of the door on the lobby side. He quickly let down the dark blind on the office side so that the glass panel formed a mirror.

'Now do what I showed you once,' he said, 'open up those psychic channels and you'll see.' Behind them Sasha could feel Willow and Miranda watching intently, Willow's curiosity so high she could sense it without trying.

'Lorne I really… whenever we open those channels these days we both end up hurting.'

'We won't this time, I promise, please look.' He stood behind her his hands laying gently on her shoulders.

'Ok,' Sasha closed her eyes and concentrated, the feel of his psychic presence growing stronger with each moment that she opened her abilities. He felt warm and loving and she relaxed back into his arms a little more. Something had changed since she had been away, she sensed it in him too, the doubt was lifting. She smiled.

'Now open your eyes,' he said.

Sasha opened them and looked into the glass. She could see his aura like the sea, shimmering and sparkling behind her, and patches of her own, less distinct in blues, and then her eyes fell to her waist, her breath hitching in her throat. A shifting glowing light pulsed gently with each heart beat. A mixture of greens and blues and golds, distinct and separate and yet part of both of them.

The tears sprang to her eyes before she could stop them.

'Our baby,' she said.

-- --

Novica chocked on his popcorn.

'Oh my God did you see that!' he cried, kernels spraying over his lap as he jumped. He opened his mouth wide and stared at the picture in the mirror. 'Well I never! This is better than Passions ever was, right vamp?' he looked over at Spike, still frozen under his spell, 'yeah I know all about your viewing habits mister, it's all written in your soul,' he winked at him and looked back at the mirror where Lorne had slipped his arms around Sasha's waist. His hands touched her belly where the second soul Illyria had discovered glowed safely in their love. After a moment he bent and kissed her softly on the neck, his body moulding to hers and she lifted one arm and held his lips to her gratefully.

'Aww, isn't that sweet,' he said. Novica sat back and took another mouthful of popcorn. He shook his head in disbelief, 'Huh,' he laughed to himself, 'Whatever next… this will be so 

much fun…'


	6. Chapter 6: The Second Soul

_Novica choked on his popcorn._

'_Oh my God did you see that!' he cried, kernels spraying over his lap as he jumped. He opened his mouth wide and stared at the picture in the mirror. 'Well I never! This is better than Passions ever was, right vamp?' he looked over at Spike, still frozen under his spell, 'yeah I know all about your viewing habits mister, it's all written in your soul,' he winked at him and looked back at the mirror where Lorne had slipped his arms around Sasha's waist. His hands touched her belly where the second soul Illyria had discovered glowed safely in their love. After a moment he bent and kissed her softly on the neck, his body moulding to hers and she lifted one arm and held his lips to her gratefully._

'_Aww, isn't that sweet,' he said. Novica sat back and took another mouthful of popcorn. He shook his head in disbelief, 'Huh,' he laughed to himself, 'Whatever next… this will be so much fun…'_

At the heart of the ruined city the Hyperion Hotel glowed dimly, its light radiating from Willow's magic and the little heat it produced penetrating just far enough into the night to melt the ice which would otherwise have caked the stone of the building. Across the street the shops and apartments were thick with it, so thick it obscured their architecture entirely. Buildings became icebergs, white and hard and featureless. The road was long hidden and beyond the light from the hotel the world lay darkly and silent. Nothing moved but the elements and no light shone.

The snow was falling thickly, thicker than it had for days, a sign that the God-Demon's power was growing. In her room Willow blew onto the window pane and watched as the breath fought not to turn to frozen crystals. How long would her magics ward off this ice age? They were trapped here in this siege with only her spells to protect them. Spike was gone. Illyria hadn't come back with Fred on the shadow paths, and Fred herself seemed weakened and distant now that she was alone in her shell. After she had brought Sasha back she had retired to the little office and sat in Wesley's old place, her mind far away and her face alert as though listening for something. She couldn't say exactly what the Old One was doing in the Deeper Well, only that it would help them in the long run.

In the long run? Willow wasn't sure there was a long run. The combined powers of the Slayer and Illyria had been a long shot and a last chance and now the future looked bleak.

Willow watched as her spell shimmered in the darkness outside, flickering briefly. With a deep breath she steeled herself and sent more of her magic to bolster its force, noticing with fear that the shield she had created was creeping closer to the building with each hour that passed. She was weakening and Novica would win.

-- --

The air smelt of soil and moisture and the light was dim casting deep shadow over the inner sanctum of the Deeper Well. At its centre the Keeper went about the first of many preparations for Illyria's request, while the Old One herself floated disembodied from her shell, impatient for progress.

'Why is this process so long?' she asked as she circled the chamber. One arm brushed 

through the earth and vanished as she moved. Illyria withdrew it quickly form the wall and studied it. 'He grows more powerful and I am weakened in this form, weaker than even Fred.'

The Keeper kept his head down and his fingers busy. He had swept clear the chamber's floor and was now bent on his knees scratching a lengthy and complex incantation into the earth. He ignored Illyria.

'You will not respond to me,' she said drifting to stand above him.

'I'm concentrating,' he said lowly.

'Why are human males so unable to do more than one task at once? It is a trait I…' she paused and corrected herself, 'it is a trait Fred observed many times and yet she could frequently perform a task and communicate simultaneously.'

The Keeper sighed sharply and looked up from his work. Illyria regarded him coolly and after a moment he looked down again and continued. It was essential that everything was perfect. His eyes ran again and again over the incantation. One wrong marking in the ancient language and the magic Illyria had requested against Novica could backfire in ways he dare not even imagine. He brushed the back of his hand over his forehead and wiped away beads of sweat leaving a dirty mark above his eyes. The task had only just begun. There were days of this yet, intricate preparations handed down to him through generations of Keepers and yet written nowhere. It was all from memory. How long ago had the Old Ones been entombed? What if these instructions were flawed with age, mistakenly remembered and passed on? What would his error do to the world then?

Behind him Illyria moved through the wall of the chamber and lingered on the bridge outside. She looked down over its edge to where a thousand other demons lay sleeping in the centre of the earth. After a second's hesitation she stepped through the side of the bridge and hung suspended in the air, the brilliant light from the hole in the world shining through her pale blue form as if she were nothing. She allowed herself to descend slowly, her limbs moving instinctively to reach for each sarcophagus as she passed, seeking, searching, and every time drawing back as though they might burn.

If the fallible human Keeper failed with his task, if she died in the process and Novica lived on, then there was one more chance…

-- --

Sasha rolled and faced him as he dozed, her heart still racing every time she opened her mind and reached for him. Whatever Novica had tried to do was failing now. She let her eyes move over his face, across his lips, barely parted in sleep; she reached her hands around his body and felt him warm and solid against her. But it was his aura which offered her comfort, because even now in his dreams it shimmered with the truth. Every barrier was down. Lorne loved her. And he loved the soul which slept in her belly.

Since she had seen it in the dark reflection of the office window Sasha had found it hard to resist looking again and again at the gentle glow, and as night fell Lorne had been forced to persuade her away from the glass and into bed to rest. But she couldn't sleep. The excitement trilled through her veins with each pulse, the baby's presence warm at her centre. She had to 

stifle giggles and then tears, her emotions racing. She bit her lips so as not to wake him.

As though reading her in his dreams Lorne's hand moved up her back and his fingers entwined themselves in her hair offering contact and reassurance. She snuggled closer to him and his chin came to rest on the top of her head so that she was firm against is chest and protected in his arms. At last she closed her eyes. She wanted to savor every second reunited with him but finally she believed there was time. He'd be here in the morning. She pressed her lips once softly against his breastbone and let the trials of the previous weeks fall away from her.

In the shadows of their room a figure watched each move, its eyes blank of all feeling.

-- --

'Off!' Novica waved at the mirror. He stared at it for a moment longer as the colours cooled 

to nothing until finally his own face looked back, his features thoughtful. With a smooth movement he raised himself from his throne, hands gripping the heavy ornate arms and pushing his body to stand tall and imposing. He skipped down the few steps that lead to the mirror and spent a second or two preening his good looks before swinging round to where Spike stood motionless. Even though the vampire could not move the resentment raged in his eyes. Novica leaned in close and smiled.

'Getting bored in there William?' he asked, 'What if I were to do… this?' he clicked his fingers and Spike felt his left arm come free of the spell. He lashed out at the god but Novica ducked and instantly froze Spike again mid swing. He reached out and folded the vampire's arm away neatly.

'I don't know about you but the Hyperion saga is getting a little dull. After all the excitement of the little one they've all slinked off to bed. Not very entertaining is it? Don't they realise that this is a twenty-four hour city now? That I never sleep?' he paced off towards the mirror again. 'We need to liven things up. They've been holed up in that damned hotel for long enough.' Novica closed his eyes and looked inwards to the remnants of the souls he had digested. He was particularly pleased with Spike's; it was proving both interesting, nutritious and informative.

'So there's a spell is there? Protecting the joint?' in his mind he felt Spike pass through the magical barrier on his way inside after another tour of the frozen city. Novica opened his eyes happily, 'And you have a key?' he went on, turning to look at him. He crossed the floor quickly his hands clasped behind his back and made a show of looking over the vampire's body. He flicked is eyes up to meet Spike's, suppressing a laugh as he did do.

'Oh you look so enraged,' he said jovially. 'You know I had thought you'd be more fun than this without your soul,' he straightened up and suddenly plunged a hand deep into Spike's open shirt withdrawing a talisman in his fingers, 'maybe given time,' he said 'maybe then you'll realise whose side it's best to be on…' he dangled the talisman before Spike's eyes, a beat up leather pouch of herbs. 'That would be mine by the way…. Hair of the dog?' he asked, 'A little of the spell that keeps you safe to open the door?'

He threw it to a nearby follower who caught it with a fumbling motion of its spindly blue limbs. 'Don't worry Spike I'm not going to use the key to get in and terrorise your little pals,' his voice dripped with patronising reassurance, 'What use is a key if there's no door to open?'

He sat again on the throne and waved at a key follower to proceed. The robed thing approached the blue and fragile looking demon who held the pouch and with a mumble of words the talisman ignited into green flame. The demon screamed as its long fingers smoked and burned. It flung its arms in the air and turned frantically to find some way to extinguish the fire.

The robed magician turned back to the god and in a low inhuman voice growled, 'Spell broken.'

Novica clapped his hands in delight.

-- --

The explosion rocked the building.

Willow's eyes opened suddenly and she cursed herself for drifting off. She instinctively clamoured to reinforce her magics.

Another shudder. She scrabbled to her feet and then fell hard against the window pane, the chill of the glass freezing fast to her skin so that when she backed away it tore at her painfully. Her spell was broken, the hotel was freezing like the rest of the city, and the glass was obscured with hard white ice. She let forth a jet of heat and the ice melted away so that she could see. The word outside was empty and frozen, nothing attacking. Nothing that could be seen.

A third explosion and she ran from the room. If she could gather the others close to her she might be able to protect them until she could figure out what was happening. Willow careered down the corridor, explosion after explosion firing at the foundations of the building and rocking its structure from basement to roof. She weaved from side to side, the corridor tipping and shaking, impeding her process. The lights flickered and died; glass shattered and hurtled towards her slicing her face and hands as she tried to protect herself. She drew a breath and screamed into the icy wind which rushed through the hotel.

'Lorne! Sasha!'

In their room the slayer and the demon were awake and disorientated. Sasha clung to him with one arm, the other hand instinctively holding her belly. They had been dragged from sleep by the first explosion and now in darkness they fought the panic. Lorne held her while his eyes flicked rapidly over the room, he could sense something beyond the eruptions and din of destruction, but he could not focus. The hotel was growing noisy around them, the creaks and groans of an earthquake damaged structure laden with ice. And yet under that noise he was sure he could hear something else, a low rhythmic sound. A voice. He whipped round desperately seeking its source.

With a bang the heavy structural support above their door came crashing down so that the wall appeared to be coming away, leaning in towards them threatening to take them and the roof with it if it fell all the way. The cold gale burned in their eyes and tore freezing strips over their skin so recently warmed with sleep, and they barely had time to jump to one side as the rubble began to fall.

Lorne pulled at Sasha and she read his intentions, scrabbling to the window as the destruction rained around them. She grabbed at the nearest weapon and threw her weight into the window frame, shattering it and the foot thick layer of ice on the other side.

'Fire escape!' she called over the noise, 'Go!'

Lorne grabbed at her and shoved her roughly towards the opening, already caking shut with new ice. Suddenly sure she could not argue with him she scrambled through, her feet making contact with the frozen steps which ran in rickety flights up the side of the building. But they were thick with ice and in seconds she lost her footing and fell, skidding down the escape as though it were a helter-skelter at a fair. As she tumbled she caught a glimpse of Lorne emerging from the broken window, and of the building trembling under him. It convulsed as 

though sick and in the sky above Sasha looked with horror at the churning purple skies of Novica's hell dimension. The world around them was his now.

Lorne landed beside her with a thud and the pair were up and running in moments. The Hyperion was crumbling, frozen solid to its core and tumbling, Willow's protective magic gone and purple violence raining down from the sky in rhythmic blows.

'Fred! Willow!' she called as Lorne's hand seized hers and he pulled her way from the wreckage. 'We can't leave them, I have to go back!'

'No time,' he replied, 'There's no time! The building's coming down!'

Sasha drew back hesitantly her eyes fixed on the disintegrating hotel, 'I can't leave them I'm a slayer, I can reach them!' and she made as though to move towards the entrance. Lorne tugged urgently on her arm, his hand strong on her wrist. 'Please,' he called, 'There's no time.' Sasha looked quickly up into his eyes and saw the desperation there; she felt the soul pulse with fear in her belly and she turned to follow Lorne.

Ice flew like dust high into the air and the shock drew Lorne and Sasha to a juddering halt. The blast from the destruction nearly floored them, rushing like a frozen gale from the depths of the building. Rubble and debris flew high in the air and began to rain down around them. The Hyperion had collapsed and somewhere deep inside Fred and Willow were trapped.

-- --

The tall man who wore the robe and sat on the throne like a king looked happy. The mirror showed the destruction of a building and the green man who had helped him running fast along the road with the girl. A pair of eyes from an upstairs window showed the scene and with each blow to the building the view shuddered as the body which held the eyes was jolted. Lorne and Sasha looked scared, but there was no sound from the mirror so he couldn't tell if they were screaming. Suddenly the picture vanished, the last image that of rubble falling hard and fast around the eyes, crushing and obscuring.

'Dammit!' Novica swore. 'You can't get the staff these days.'

Toby forced himself to look from Novica to the vampire called Spike. The one who had been in the hotel before it fell down. The one who had talked to him before in the white room and was nice. After Novica was finished playing with him he had sent him back to where the Lost Ones stood in the shadows. He seemed upset but he was moving and talking and the others didn't do that. Toby breathed deep. He was still tired from talking earlier but he was feeling stronger and thought he might try again.

Spike was pacing up and down behind the invisible barrier while the others shifted only occasionally. They had stopped milling around and stood still most of the time, maybe somewhere deep inside they realised they couldn't go anywhere. But Toby might be able to go somewhere someday because the green man had found him and Spike had said he'd help him. The green man, Lorne, had shown him pictures of home and talked to him and now Toby knew in as much as a small child could, that he had a chance where the others didn't. He was in his head and the others were empty. He concentrated really hard and tried to make the connection work again between his brain and his mouth like before when he had asked for 

help. The blond vampire's name was Spike and he didn't like Novica and had said so and said they needed to find a way out. Maybe he'd found one when he was over looking in the mirror?

Toby thought the word hard over and over, pushing it with each repetition closer to his tongue and lips.

_Spike Spike Spike_

He could almost feel the name forming now.

'Bloody god king thing stealing my bloody soul,' Spike began his mantra over again. It's what he had been muttering before when Toby talked to him. 'Think that's going to be enough, think you can break me, I'll get it back wait and see, if I have to slice your head off and drink it from you,' he stormed up and down the perimeter of the enclosure. Novica watched at a distance and the vampire could feel his eyes heavy on his back, mocking, burning. It pissed him off. It pissed him off so much he couldn't think straight and he had to think. He had to find a way out. The kid had asked him, and it was the right thing to do, he had to help. But he could feel Novica's eyes, watching, filling him with doubt.

But that wasn't all he could feel; he could feel hunger. Of course he often felt hunger. Hunger for a nice tall glass of pig's blood with a touch of otter, but hunger like this he hadn't felt or encouraged for a long time. It clawed at his guts, it crept up over the hours and now it drove him into the frantic pacing by the barrier because he knew if he turned around it would get worse. If he got closer to them it would get worse and he might not be able to stop. The rows and rows of empty people behind him. Well hell they were empty right? They were technically dead anyway, just bodies, animated and warm, filled with rich hot blood, but not people. The people bit was gone.

But Lorne had been working to get the people bit back. He'd been trying to find their souls. He'd found Toby, that meant he could find them all and Spike had to help them.

No-one would notice if one or two went missing right? And he needed his strength. And he needed to be able to think and he couldn't while this need burned.

Spike grimaced and clenched his fists hard until the blackened nails bit deeply into his palms. Still people. They are still people. Don't slip Spike. Buffy believed in you, believe in yourself now. This is what Novica wants, he wants you to give in and play on his side.

Would that be so bad? Angel investigations was losing members by the day and the whole city was frozen and dead. This was one super apocalypse and Novica was winning. And there was an all you could eat take out bounty standing right behind him. He cast a glance over the rows of blank faces and turned away ashamed. No. As long as he ignored them, as long as he kept pacing, he'd get through this. He could be a better man. The hunger would pass and then he'd be able to think.

'Sp…Spike?' the voice was young and fragile. It was Toby. Something in the vampire gave way and his fragile resolve threatened to shatter.

Spike turned rapidly, his coat flaring behind him and his face instantly animated with the 

need to kill. His heavy vampire brows knit over feral eyes and his teeth glistened. The kid looked petrified, young and unmoving but conscious and alive. Blood pumping; Spike could sense it, hear it almost, throbbing through every artery. Toby would be aware if Spike drank him, he'd feel it all.

'Spike?' higher pitched, more scared, it sounded good. He could scent the fear now. Toby's eyes were wide with confusion. The blond man said he'd help, why was he looking so angry?

From behind him Spike could sense Novica's satisfaction in the child's impending death. He was approaching the barrier at a slow saunter and rubbing his hands in anticipation. The last remnants of the vampire's humanity were spurred into action. In a split second the white room descended into momentary chaos. As Spike dived for the boy Novica laughed shrilly and applauded, stepping closer to the enclosure to watch. As Novica crossed the barrier it wavered and the magic parted. And as it parted Spike grabbed the boy and hurled him towards the gap whispering harshly in his ear 'Run!'

The vampire fell hard onto the next Lost One in line and sank grateful fangs into her neck. Novica whooped with joy.

'I knew I could break you!' he cried and then directed his demons as he watched. 'Leave the kid, he won't get far, if you find him wandering round stick him back in here,' he looked with approval at the rivulets of blood with streamed from the victim's neck and stained the lips of the vampire. 'That looks delicious,' he crooned. A follower touched Novica on the arm with one long tapered finger.

'But if the child escapes…?' he began

'Even if he does worm his way out of here he has no soul! You really think a five year old boy with no soul is going to get very far in a frozen wasteland? He's no great loss. If anyone did find him before he cops it from hypothermia he wouldn't be able to say a word, that's the beauty of the Lost Ones…. No eye witnesses… No one at home…' He tapped his head with a finger and winked before turning back to Spike who dropped the woman's body to one side and looked with intent at the next victim.

'Oh go on have another, you deserve it,' Novica said, 'and then I have a little job for you.'

-- --

The sarcophagus was smaller than others although size was irrelevant to the Old Ones, the most powerful creature could be sleeping in the smallest of coffins and the weakest in one vast and ornate. Illyria hovered by it, her face impassive and her ancient mind re-running scenes long since laid to rest but not forgotten. Bloodshed and violence, sweet revenge; the billowing gateway to another dimension and Novica's pain at his incarceration by Illyria's hands. While this creature slept a premature sleep he had suffered, and it was just. He had to pay for what he had done, an unforgivable act even in the world of the Old Ones.

Illyria drifted closer to the coffin, a box of pale pink granite and rubies which glinted like eyes. Without realising it she reached out and laid her hand tenderly along the top of the oblong, just millimetres from the surface, searching for the power, for the evidence that the thing within lived still.

She sensed it and a stilted smile half crossed her lips before it fell away in uneasy sorrow. She struggled to regain her expressionless composure.

'I do not wish to wake you,' she said, 'This world is empty and unpleasant for our kind. But the Keeper may fail, my death may not be enough to stop him but it is all I have to give now. And I am… sorry for that… for bringing you again to this empty world…' her face contorted as she struggled with that human emotion Fred had shown her, guilt.

'You would not wish him to succeed, I am certain,' Illyria went on. She let her hand touch the jewel which served as a key to the sarcophagus. The magic which bound the Old One within prevented Illyria's ethereal form from penetrating and she felt the cold surface of the ruby under her fingers. 'You were different from us. I never understood why or what purpose you served in our dark world. But now I do. You alone can stop him if I fail, you alone could have stopped any of us,' Illyria said, 'I know now that is why he destroyed you. You were more powerful than the Old Ones, than Novica, than me but you did not show it in our ways… though I revenged your murder I did so blindly from anger that he should succeed where I failed, I wished to end you too, I wished you dead, I wished our darkness on the earth because I did not understand…'

'The Shell has taught me about light… Levinia…' her voice grew soft, 'Daughter.'

The ruby at her fingertips glowed softly, a single pulse of light which held within it the evidence of dormant power. The faint uneasy smile returned to the demon's lips and her tension eased. Though Levinia lay dormant still she was viable. If Illyria failed she would wake in her place.

Illyria's eyes widened suddenly with new information, her mind filled with vibrant images of destruction.

'He harms the shell,' she said sharply and vanished.

Fred's cry was high pitched and terrified as the ceiling of the lobby caved towards her. She had positioned herself in the door frame of the office and was bracing her tiny body against the wood in desperation. With a terrifying noise the glass in the lobby doors shattered sending lumps of ice flying inwards and allowing her a glimpse of the disintegrating purple world beyond.

'Illyria!' she screamed hoarsely, the last syllable of the demon's name ending in a frightened sob. 'Illyria!'

There was a flash and Illyria appeared flickering in the centre of the lobby. Her powers restored by the Keeper as part of her aborted plan to defeat Novica, she raised her arm in a circle and held off the falling debris, creating a shimmering blue shield above her head and Fred. Fred dashed towards her gratefully, aware of the irony of her rescue by the thing which had once killed her. She allowed the demon to enter her body briefly despite the risks and transport her from the crumbling Hyperion.

Fred could sense Illyria's new power and she could sense that what the Keeper had told them was right. If the demon spent any length of time in her shell Fred would never survive, so it 

was just an instant before Fred realised that she was in the Deeper Well and that Illyria had torn herself from her body almost as fast as she had entered.

Fred lay panting on the bridge, her head screaming in pain and the blood trickling from her nose. Illyria hovered nearby.

'I am sorry for the pain.'

'It's a heck of a lot less than it would have been if you let the building fall on my head…' Fred muttered, her vision tracking in and out of focus and a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm her. 'Lorne? Sasha? What about Willow?'

'I had time only for you, and to enter them would damage them, you are shaped now for my being.'

'So they're trapped,' Fred dabbed her nose with the back of her hand and winced, her head pounding in sympathy.

'I saw only you,' Illyria said simply, 'My concern was only for you.'

Fred looked up at her sharply, something in the god's tone cutting through her pain and catching her attention but she saw nothing in Illyria's blue eyes. Content that Fred would survive she turned away and entered the Keeper's chamber.

-- --

The Hyperion Hotel had vanished. In a matter of hours after its destruction Novica's ice had born down and smothered its remains, the landscape was flat and barren, frozen and dark. It was barely a city. Spike loitered by what had once been the gates to the gardens. He'd enjoyed many a cigarette there and he lit one now, his hands tinged blue with cold. He cocked his head and looked at the debris, waiting.

'You're sure about this?' he asked the empty air.

_Just wait, _Novica's voice replied quietly,_ I've got other plans for you and I need a pair of eyes in the meantime. If the silly girl had gotten out of the building when I directed her instead of hanging around in Lorne's room gawping. Never mind, _the voice became dismissive, _it was a glitch that's all, she's back under the old thrawl now and she won't be going against orders again… that is if she ever gets out the damned ice._ A sigh indicated Novica's impatience transmitted psychically from the white room.

'Yeah well I'll be glad to not be your eyes matey, some things a man wants to keep private.'

_You've other talents William, I need your muscle power and your stealth. The girl has neither; she's just a handy body whereas you still have a functional brain… such as it is… Anyway I knew you'd be useful in the end._

'Flattery will get you everywhere,' Spike chuckled.

_I think she's over there,_ Spike's head turned suddenly at Novica's demand and he protested 

with a strangulated cry.

'Alright alright I'll go look just stop jerking my brains around,' Spike wandered in the direction Novica indicated, flicking ash onto the ice and leaving black pock marks in his wake. He was clambering up a small incline when a rumble attracted his notice. He stepped back observing a pile of snow.

_Well get her out then!_

Spike discarded his cigarette and plunged one hand into the frozen debris. He grasped the arm he found there and pulled hard.

'We meet again,' he joked as the girl emerged from the snow, 'But you'll be sorry to hear I won't be needing any more pig's blood.'

The Lost One Miranda looked back at him blankly.

'Now you and me, we've got a couple of little jobs to do and if you're good I promise not to nibble your jugular. Lorne and his bird have buggered off and they've got something the big bad wants. A juicy little soul. Special little thing it is too, half demon, half slayer, bit of a tasty treat. You and me, we're going to find it… or more precisely you're going to find it and I'm going to kick its ass. Off you pop!' he patted her on the shoulder.

_Yes thank you very much,_ Novica said curtly, _I believe I issue the instructions round here._

'You've got your eyes, now what?'

_Now I watch a little TV._

'Eh?'

_I'm going to see where she gets to on the big screen… the mirror you dumby… you on the other hand are going to use your muscles like I said._

'Oh yeah, who do I kill first?'

_No-one. I need information_.

'Who do I beat up then?'

_No-one. It's in a book. In the hotel. Under there._ He made Spike look at the ruins to his right. _Get digging._

'What am I looking for?'

_A prophecy. _

'Bloody hell not another one. If it involves a vampire becoming human I don't want to know.'

_No, its older that Shanshu, Spike, and it's all about me…_

Spike spat on the ground and watched as it froze. 'Righty 'o then.'

-- --

'It's a sort of unwritten rule,' Lorne said, his smooth voice echoing off the walls, 'when in trouble head for the sewers. I never understood why, given that much of the bad we faced had shares in the place…'

'What?' Sasha asked, distracted. She followed him blindly down the tunnel aware of the slippery floor and crusted white walls. It was like taking a stroll through a freezer. She felt goosebumps on her arms and her muscles trembled with cold. All the while the soul she carried in her belly was sending her impulses of fear like stabbing pains. She placed a hand on her stomach and tried to reassure it best she could but she figured that the baby could sense a lie just the way its empathic father could. She was fooling no-one.

'Sewers, bad things live in them,' Lorne replied.

'I don't think much is living down here,' Sasha said softly. They had rounded a bend and stood now in a clearing, tunnels branching off left and right and ahead of them.

'So this is where the population fled to,' Lorne said, his eyes roaming over the bodies, frozen like statues and glittering coolly in the faint light. Sasha covered her mouth with one hand, her vision fixed on the open eyes of the nearest victim. Beside her Lorne slipped his arm around her shoulders and moved her onwards. 'pick a tunnel sweetie, we can't stay here.'

Sasha looked between the three choices. 'I don't know, it all looks the same. We don't even know where we're headed.' She raised a hand to he brow. 'God I'm so tired, I don't understand it, I'm a slayer…' Lorne rubbed her back gently.

'It's OK,' he said softly as he looked between the tunnels. 'We'll figure this out, and hey as long as none of these lead us to Novica's lair we'll be ok, right?' he laughed nervously, 'Eeny Meeny Miney…' he began.

The rush of knowledge came over Sasha like a wave. In her mind's eye she rushed through each tunnel in turn. A dead end, a man hole in the city close to wolfram and hart and the third… she saw herself and Lorne emerging from it into safety.

'That one,' she pointed to the tunnel on the left before returning both hands to her belly. 'We track along that one and we'll get to a church.'

Lorne raised his eyebrows mid 'Mo.'

'You're sure?' he said.

'Someone is sure,' Sasha replied and saw his eyes drop to her stomach. 'I think our baby is psychic, must have got it from you.'

'I'm not psychic like that,' Lorne said, 'My gig is reading destinies and auras, I don't choose paths or see into the future.' He hesitated looking curiously at Sasha. 'Well who am I to argue, let's go.'

She took his hand and led him to the tunnel, the baby's spirit settling reassured within her now that their path was chosen. As the couple vanished they were unaware of the footsteps behind them, soft on the ice, or of the eyes which watched their progress.

Miranda followed at a short distance, manipulated by Novica's will, silent and cold, her flesh glistening with frozen crystals as her body cooled defenseless against the ice age around her. But she felt nothing and she was dispensable. Her features, once so attractive were blank now. The full red lips which had laughed at Spike's jokes in the butcher's were drawn and colourless. Her hair fell in dull auburn waves over her shoulders, dirty with debris from the hotel and unkempt from weeks of neglect. She moved like an automaton, balancing with ease on the ice, all the time the silhouettes of the slayer and the demon just within range.

-- --

'It is done,' the Keeper pushed himself up from the floor where the lengthy incantation was completed. Illyria ran her eyes over the ancient words and nodded. She was conscious of Fred's weak presence by the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame and fighting to figure out what was happening.

'Sit,' she instructed, 'Your shell is weak from my intrusion.'

Fred tottered into the room and slithered into a chair at one corner.

'Bring it here,' Illyria instructed the Keeper. He stooped to pick up a staff and with it held before him, he mumbled a low chant in a language long dead. Fred felt her skin turn cold although she didn't understand the words. It was the look on Illyria's face which filled her with fear. The centre of the room began to swirl as though a dust storm had attacked the chamber. The words the Keeper had so painstakingly inscribed churned and raised from the floor, characters and letter flying in dark wind. The staff the Keeper held began to glow and with a sudden eruption the swirling cloud burst apart and vanished. In its place a sarcophagus Fred recognised only too well. She had seen it here in the deeper well before now summoned by the Keeper when she and Sasha had accompanied Illyria on her mission to end Novica. She had not wished to return to it then but now it lay suspended before her open and ready, its magics powerful and binding. Fred's eyes ran over the familiar jewels with horror.

'Wh...what are you doing Illyria?' she asked.

'I am dying,' she replied, 'And I will take him with me.'

Before Fred could respond the Keeper stepped forward and addressed the demon goddess.

'It is ready,' he said, 'Bring him.'

-- --

'One prophecy,' Spike dumped the battered text on Novica's lap. The god looked up at him 

in surprise and irritation at his impudence. Spike gave him his 'you've got a problem?' look and sparked up his lighter. 'Hope you realise there are about a dozen of those bloody things in the building, what's left of the building I should say. Wesley left a few kicking about and the witch gathered a few more. So what I'm saying is I'm not guaranteeing that's the right one.'

'It's the right one,' Novica said quietly, his long fingers turning page after delicate page.

'No word of thanks?' Spike taunted.

Novica sighed and raised his eyes tiredly. 'Do I have to remind you that I can freeze your ass and stick you back with that lot?' he glanced over at the Lost Ones, 'Without the ability to sample the goodies? I could just put you there unable to move and leave you to starve. Ever seen a starving vampire Spike? Because you won't die of it, you'll just shrivel and lose those good looks.'

Spike bit his lip. He knew he was out of his league. This thing was a God and a powerful demon version at that. Novica saw his reaction and dropped his eyes again to the pages on his lap.

'Here we are, I knew I'd seen it before. I knew there was a purpose.' He spun the book to show the pictures to Spike. A wasteland of ice spread before him.

'You've done that already,' Spike snorted unimpressed.

'Look closer,' Novica chided. 'Look at the prophecy.'

Spike looked at the words below the picture. 'I don't get it.'

Novica slammed the book shut in despair. 'And to think I thought you had a functional brain!' He cried. He got up from the throne and swept down to the mirror talking as he went.

'My power here is still weak. It's better than it was but it's weak. Ultimately Spike the world will be filled with creatures like these,' he gestured to his pale blue demon followers, 'Like you, like them,' he pointed to the Lost Ones. 'Do you see yet, do you see what a wonderful opportunity I have?'

'Um…'

'No souls Spike, not one! The prophecy speaks of the Devourer of Souls and that is what I am. I can rid this world of good and leave it empty and desolate for a new age. Look again at the picture Spike if you can't understand the words!' he flung the volume at the vampire and it sun open at the page. Spike looked at the landscape.

'It's empty,' he said, 'there's no one left.'

Novica stood before the mirror and waved the picture into view. Through Miranda's eyes he surveyed the tunnels and sewers which emptied into the frozen streets of LA.

'The Devourer will drink of the union,' recited, 'And humanity will lend him its power and 

every soul will meet its end.'

He watched as Lorne and Sasha climbed a thin ladder to the surface and urged Miranda to follow. She stood looking up at the pale light which fell through the manhole and waited as the couple emerged into the relative safety of the church above.

'Humanity and power,' he said to himself, 'empath and slayer, granted I never thought the damned humanity would come from a demon, so I had to do a little double checking,' he laughed hard, 'but hoowee did that demon ever give me a shock with his lovey dovey soul? I was not expecting that, caused me a few problems as you might remember,' his tone was one of regretful reminiscence. 'Ah well, time to move on, time to pay back. The union of humanity and power… that little soul she's carrying is the key I'm sure. If I can take that from them, then I can take them all. No souls… No-one left. An army of demons and of vacant slaves… I will be unstoppable.'

The image in the mirror shifted as Miranda moved to follow Lorne's retreating shadow through the manhole. Novica paused selecting his moment. He wanted to do this right.

'Get down there Spike,' he said, 'Fast as you can, use the shadow paths if you must, but be quick. I'll need you on hand in case mommy gets all stroppy and tells me 'No.''

-- --

'These places have always creeped me out,' Lorne muttered as he closed the manhole.

'It's not as cold here,' Sasha remarked looking around the graveyard, 'we must have come a fair distance do y'think?'

'If my aching pins have anything to do with it then I would say yes,' Lorne grumbled, 'What d'ya say we head over to the church and have a bit of a sit down. Sasha joined him and the pair made their way across the snowy cemetery to the spired church in the distance. While everything around was as white as it was back at the Hyperion, here at least it was undamaged. It was a perfect winter scene as though wolfram and hart's apocalypse and Novica's reign had never touched it. But of course it had, you didn't get three feet of snow in LA even if it was winter.

They reached the heavy double door to the church and Sasha stepped forward to heave it open. It creaked with rust and ice equally and they slipped into the chilly interior. Lorne guessed the place had lain abandoned since the summer before when the congregation fled from flying dragons and certain death. The pews were dusty and the remnants of flowers stood stiffly by the altar. They moved to the head of the church and sat down, the eerie silence settling on their shoulders like dust. Lorne bowed his head subtly, sadness in his face.

'Did you pray when all this started?' Sasha asked, 'Last year when Angel made that decision?'

'I prayed for Cordelia and I prayed for Fred, but after her I don't remember. I think I lost hope. I know I lost myself in all that mess for a while and then things got so bad I lost faith too. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get it back.'

Sasha looked up at the cross suspended on the wall ahead. 'Me too,' she said, 'But isn't it weird how you come in here and you can feel it again, just a little at the corners of your mind. Even when you've lost all hope you sit in a place like this and it's there.'

There was a soft pause. 'Yes, it is.' When Lorne replied his wondering tone caused her to look at him sharply and then follow his line of site back up to the altar. Toby Wyatt stood nervously watching them, one foot suspended over the edge of the step as though he might approach them but he wasn't sure how.

'Toby?' Lorne said, standing slowly so as not to frighten the little boy. 'Toby how did you get here?'

'Lorne be careful, you don't know what Novica's playing at, he could be using him…' Sasha saw the child look quickly at her, recognition in his eyes. She fell silent.

'No,' Lorne said, 'It's OK,' he moved closer until he was able to lower himself onto the steps and sit by the boy. Toby shuffled towards him hesitantly. 'It's OK,' Lorne repeated, opening his arms in a gesture which demonstrated he meant no harm. The child moved closer and Lorne looked deep into his eyes. 'You're in there aren't you little man, I can see you.'

Toby nodded slowly.

'I ran away,' he said, 'From the bad man, N.. No..' he struggled with the name.

'Novica,' Lorne said, 'You got away from him? How?'

'Spike helped me.'

Sasha was up and off the pew moving quickly towards Toby. The child edged backwards behind Lorne, startled by her speed and the look of intent on her face.

'Spike? You were with Spike?' she asked. Toby nodded, looking to Lorne for reassurance. Lorne took his hand and drew him round so that he could perch on his lap.

'Where is he?' Sasha demanded, 'is he OK?'

'Honey you're scaring him,' Lorne warned her quietly. 'Don'tcha think he's been through enough to get here? I mean jeez he got away from that thing, he found himself again and got away, and its miles Sasha, he must be exhausted. Are you tired sweetie?' he looked down into the boy's wide eyes. 'I bet you are. Well don't you worry about the details just yet, you're safe OK, we'll take care of you.' He pulled the child closer to his chest and let him rest there before looking up at Sasha, 'Kid's a miracle no less,' he said. 'You talk about hope, well he's it.'

She looked down at the child in Lorne's arms and remembered how hard he had tried to reach him back in his Reading Room. Well he'd done it, one way or another he'd done it and any doubt that all this hardship wasn't worth it left her immediately. Sasha felt a surge of pride as she watched him rock Toby gently to the rhythm of a lullaby.

_If I could sing a day for you, I'd make you a morning, golden and new…_

-- --

'Okies that's long enough loitering in the sewer,' Novica shuddered, 'Time to get me a pretty soul.' He roused Miranda and watched as she moved up the ladder and struggle with the man hole cover.

'Remind me to get stronger minions,' he commented to a follower. 'Go on girl give it a shove.' The cover moved and Novica saw the sky, and then a cemetery in his mirror. 'Into the church sweetie, you'll find them in there. Very symbolic isn't it?' he questioned his robed magician, 'Couldn't have worked out nicer really.' He trotted back up the steps to his throne and settled himself comfortably waiting for the show to begin. On either side of the mirror two followers stood with candles ready to enact their part in the little ceremony which would channel Sasha's child into Novica. He reclined in expectation, running a hand languorously over his chest and down one thigh, his body pulsing with the anticipation of such a delicious treat.

In the mirror Miranda had entered the church.

-- --

Sasha spun around instinctively at the sound. The slender girl stood just inside the doorway, her frame highlighted by the dim winters light outside. She recognised her at once as the Lost One from the Hyperion.

'Well!' Lorne cried happily, 'Another waif and stray joins the fold.'

'Lorne, no!' Sasha called, but it was too late, he was already trotting down the aisle to greet her. He bent slightly on welcome and took her arm, leading Miranda back towards the altar. 'I always had a hope you'd be OK honey,' he was saying, 'and here you are! Well you're in the right place…'

'Lorne be careful,' Sasha said, even from this distance she could see that Miranda remained as blank and unresponsive as always. 'She's not like Toby.'

'Oh I'm sure she just has a little way more to go, but why would she be here unless she got a little free will? It's incredible she got out of that building alive dontcha think?'

'A little too incredible.'

'Oh now don't be such an old cynic,' Lorne patted Miranda in the back on the hand, 'maybe the falling rubble knocked some sense into you,' he joked and looked deep into her eyes. Sasha watched as a frown passed over his face, quickly followed by panic. He let go of her hand which swung lifelessly by the girl's side. She began to make a low rhythmic hum and in a second Lorne recognised it as the noise he had heard in his room as the hotel had disintegrated around them. The vision flashed before his eyes and he spun towards Sasha.

'Get out of here,' he said urgently.

The arrow struck him smartly between the shoulder blades.

-- --

'Strike one!' Novica yelped from his throne. 'Enter Spike!' he watched as Miranda's eyes swung round to look at the vampire. He hitched the crossbow over his shoulder and sauntered down the aisle, his face wide in a satisfied smile.

'This is going to be so…' Novica began. The white room rumbled and the lights grew first dim and then overly bright. His followers began to chatter in nervousness, shifting around like a pale blue sea at his feet. With a sudden crack the ceiling above seemed to split open. Novica's eyes darted to the vision above him, a swirling cloud of violent blue electricity which shifted and pulsed, now recognisable as a person, now the elements.

'Illyria,' he whispered a second before the bolt of lightning fired towards him. He glanced at the mirror in alarm, his need for power great, 'Miranda, now!'

-- --

Sasha screamed as Lorne collapsed hard on the hard stone floor of the church, the blood seeping from under his body in startling scarlet tones. Pushing Toby to safety at the back of the building she launched herself at Spike who responded with delight.

'Slayer!' he grunted between blows, 'been so long since I fought with one of you,' he dodged and ducked to one side, leaning back and laughing at her fury, 'Well you know a long time since I fought against one I should say!' Sasha turned on her heel and belted him hard across the jaw. He reeled slightly and then smiled through his split lip. He lashed out with a series of heavy blows around her face and arms before she kicked him hard in the stomach and he doubled over briefly. Panting she jumped back on the defensive, exhilaration and adrenaline pumping through her body rich with anger and hurt. The baby she carried awoke and directed her moves and Sasha pre-empted his every punch. Spike laughed. Novica had been right, she'd never see it coming, she was so focused on the vampire that she'd never see…

Miranda stepped forward and plunged her hand through Sasha's back, skewering her magically on her arm and reaching through to her belly where the second soul sheltered. Sasha tried to scream but the air had left her lungs, she felt the burn of Miranda's arm impaling her and the baby fighting to remain where it was. On the floor she saw Lorne twitch slightly unable to come to her assistance and standing over him, Spike, the cruel smile on his face revealing his pleasure. The church was growing dim and piece by piece she felt her baby letting go. Tears began to course down her face, she was sobbing silently without breath; the baby's fear was all that she could feel, feel and need.

_Protect me._

But she couldn't.

The soul came away. Her baby was gone.

-- --

Illyria rained down blue fire and lightning upon her husband. Her form whipped rapidly around the light room, knocking aside followers and demons, battering the walls and ripping at the fabric of the dimension with unparalleled force. She would end him, for all that he had done, she would end him and take him with her to her sarcophagus where he would lie entombed, guarded by her being, never to be revived. As she surged towards him, driven by the force of her spirit alone and without a corporeal form she saw the image in the mirror and her path changed. Sasha was dangling in the grip of Novica's minion, the baby's soul being channelled through the Lost One and soon to be deep in him. Illyria screamed with primitive passion and remembered pain, a violent scream of colour and light sent burrowing into the glass, shattering the mirror and Novica's connection to the slayer.

_You will not destroy her child! _The lightning warned him_, You will not destroy her as you destroyed our Daughter!_

Illyria wrapped her powers around Novica's startled form and pulled with all her might, choking him, hauling him with her to their grave.

_You die with me, husband._

-- --

Sasha slumped suddenly to the floor her breath coming back to her with a sudden painful surge. Her arms buckled beneath her and she crashed to the stone, the sobs coming thick and fast, her vision obscured with tears. She was dimly aware of Miranda stumbling backwards and crashing hard against the first pew and of spike's gleeful laughter. He moved away from the shattered family and perched on the altar being careful to avoid the cross that rested there.

The emptiness consumed her. A void that felt cold and lifeless within her. She had not felt its true warmth until it had left her and now the cold threatened to consume her from within. She couldn't feel below her waist, and all she could feel was pain and ice. Lorne was just out of reach, unmoving and unresponsive, and all around her was dark. Their wounds were deep and fatal but there loss was worse. From where she lay she felt that he could sense it and as her eyes flickered shut she saw his aura grow dim.

Behind them the Lost One stood, her vivid red eyes fixed on Spike. He turned cigarette in hand at the sound of movement and she watched as the smile fell from his face.

'Oh bloody hell…' he said.

-- --

Through the shadow paths he fought her, his form dissipating and changing. The glamour Lorne had once used for protection now vanished and Novica appeared for the first time as his true demonical self. The swirling mass that was Illyria's restored power battled hard with his own deep purple energies. The pair writhed and struggled, the clash massive and unrelenting and she succeeded in dragging him back towards the deeper well.

_You cannot end me, _he voiced_. I have no place in the Well, you are a fool to think I could rest _

_there, I have no sarcophagus._

_You need none, you share mine._

_You deceive yourself, _his laughter rang out along the paths_. You are tainted with human feeling, senses of guilt loss and revenge, you are weakened Illyria, unworthy of the title of Old One. I remain pure and without feeling._

_You failed to take the soul, your prophecy fails Novica, I have prevented it._

_There is yet time, you will not defeat me_.

The Old Ones tumbled forth into the chamber of the Deeper Well. The Keeper stumbled backwards in fear as the pair reformed, Illyria and Novica in humanoid form once more; she ethereal yet and he solid. The room hummed with ages old power and the Keeper was reduced to his knees by the sarcophagus; the air was thick and unbreathable and his heart felt as though it might rupture. Across the chamber Fred pinned herself against the wall, the blows of the Old Ones falling close to her and with every one the chamber shuddered. She dug her fingers into the dirt and tried to breath in the air that was heavy with magics and age.

The Keeper mumbled the final words of the incantation.

Illyria flung her arms suddenly around Novica's neck and tipped him back, pushing her spectral form deep within his body until they merged a pattern of blues and purples, struggling in the centre of the room, a single form. The sarcophagus gaped and a whirlwind of magic drew them back, closer and closer, devouring them. Fred watched in horror as the Keeper mumbled the words to seal the coffin and within it Novica and Illyria, but as the jewels on the lid began to gleam there was a horrific crack and a jet of purple force spewed forth from the box. Novica reformed quickly and hovered ghostly by the sarcophagus weakened but with his strength rapidly regaining.

'Stop!' Fred cried aware that the sarcophagus was sealing with Illyria still inside.

'The ritual is begun, I cannot!' the Keeper yelled, panic clawing at his throat. Novica's body solidified slowly and fearless he approached the sealing coffin.

'You have no power over me,' he said as he passed a hand over a gleaming sapphire.

Fred's despair was high and painful, her voice hoarse. She flung herself at Novica beating him weakly with her fists until he held her wrists and moved her away from him unchallenged. She dropped to her knees, the emptiness of Illyria's loss washing over her. It made no sense, it hurt so much. This thing she had feared and resented and finally grown to love was gone, she was hollow without her.

-- --

Spike backed away from the figure with panic in his eyes. He'd never seen anything like her before and he could sense the power from her every pore. Now he understood why Novica had coveted the soul so badly; to see her manifest this way, in the weakened body of a Lost 

One was terrifying enough, what would her power be like when coupled within an Old One like Novica? He waited for her to strike, to finish him but instead she let him scramble back out of the church and away, her concerns elsewhere, but her anger obvious and imposing.

As Spike vanished her eyes flicked across to the shadows behind the altar.

'Why don't you come out?' she encouraged. 'he's gone, he won't hurt us anymore.'

Toby tottered forward and she bent to meet him. 'You OK?' she asked. He nodded at first uncertain, but then as she took his hand he seemed more convinced. He liked her eyes, the reminded him of other kind people. She was different from how she had been when she arrived, she'd changed and now he could see there was someone inside, like there was someone in side him again.

'Not empty now?' he asked her.

'Not empty,' she replied understanding him. 'I have to help them,' she went on looking at Lorne, 'why don't you sit here while I do that.' Obediently the little boy perched on the steps and watched as the slim figure moved back to where the bodies of Sasha and Lorne lay dying.

Sasha blinked, trying to focus on the face which hovered above her, it seemed familiar and yet so new. She tried to lift her head, her hand to reach out and touch and was surprised when the warm of the girl's hand closed over hers in reassurance. The face was delicate and handsome, the auburn hair shining richly as it fell across her neck and shoulders, but the eyes were mesmerising. A brilliant shade of ruby which mirrored her full lips and complemented the skin which was a pale and beautiful shade of leaf green. Sasha's world was growing darker and the colours began to fade.

Kneeling there between them the figure rolled Lorne so that he was on his back and took a hand from each of the victims. She closed her red eyes to reveal deep shadow to the sockets, scarlet and purple, thick long lashes. An expression of concentration crossed her features and a shimmering light passed slowly down the length of her body, along her arms to where she gripped Sasha and Lorne. Warmth coursed through their bodies and the open wounds began to seal by magic. At last she ended the spell and let their hands rest again on their stomachs. She waited for them to rouse, cradling Sasha in her arms and watching over Lorne. He stirred, blinking and trying to prop himself up on his elbows. He glanced up, taking in Sasha's unconscious but living form with some relief and then catching the stranger's eye with realization dawning as he read her aura. The same aura which had pulsed within Sasha, the same soul she had nurtured in her belly, trapped now mid way between her mother and Novica, in the empty shell of the Lost One.

'My name is Aviline,' she said, her voice a soft musical echo of Lorne's, 'I am your daughter.' And her wide warm smile mirrored his as he fell into her arms.

-- --

The Keeper trembled in the shattered remains of the chamber, he had failed and now the consequences must be paid. Novica remained on earth and no creature could stop him. The Deeper Well's magics had not been enough. He wept with fear and rocked his body against the dirt.

In one corner Fred sat motionless, her face numb with fatigue and loss. She was slumped like a rag doll, the glow of the cooling sarcophagus lighting her face with an eerie blue tinge, the ghost of Illyria in her features. Novica was gone, returned to his stronghold no weaker than before, his threat unabated and his resolve strengthened. Her sacrifice had been for nothing.

Unconsciously Fred crawled from her place and dragged herself to the bridge beyond the chamber. The Deeper Well was silent as the Old Ones slept on unaware of the turmoil above and the encroaching ice age of Novica's rule. All but one who waited. She waited for the sign. Far below the bridge in the coolly lit tunnel which divided the earth, a dim light shone red from a glittering ruby.

_Hear me._

Fred looked dimly over the railings and felt the breeze prick at her cheeks where fresh tears still trickled. Her breath came in slow shallow bursts, her heart aching with incomprehensible grief. As she watched a tear fell from her face and down through the earth.

It fell and fell until a ruby sparkled with moisture and its light grew strong.

Levinia was rising.


	7. Chapter 7: Afterlife

_The Deeper Well was silent as the Old Ones slept on unaware of the turmoil above and the encroaching ice age of Novica's rule. All but one who waited. She waited for the sign. Far below the bridge in the coolly lit tunnel which divided the earth, a dim light shone redly from a glittering ruby. _

Hear me.

_Fred looked dimly over the railings and felt the breeze prick at her cheeks where fresh tears still trickled. Her breath came in slow shallow bursts, her heart aching with incomprehensible grief. As she watched a tear fell from her face and down through the earth._

_It fell and fell until a ruby sparkled with moisture and its light grew strong._

_Levinia was rising._

From the heart of LA the darkness spilled thickly like liquid and the struggling grey light retreated further from the city. It was winter now over California and it would only be days before the cold would spread further, reaching out across the states to Texas and beyond. The news networks were stunned, sending reporters and cameras to each city, fighting with the weather to reach their destinations and shoot their story. Snowmen lined the suburbs and sledges whipped down hills. Snow piled high, wind drove blizzards. Airports closed. Roads were inaccessible. Ice draped its claws over buildings and dangled in crystals from roofs, and the curiosity which filled the residents of the mid west was quickly replaced by apprehension. LA had been dead and silent for weeks, and now that death was spreading. Adults lost track of the seasons and days, children stopped playing in the streets and behind frozen windows their faces peered out with fear at this new cold world.

Deep in the Cotswolds the Deeper Well was peaceful the landscape above it unremarkable and welcoming. A meadow of rich grass sparsely populated with trees stretched back towards a forest filled with life and birdsong, oblivious to the graveyard below where Illyria's essence lay entombed. Early spring sat mildly in the English countryside but even as nature went about her business the landscape changed. With a slow movement like the trickle of water or the steady rise of the moon the woods grew cold. The dew which lay undisturbed on the meadow began to glitter with frost and above the oak which marked the Deeper Well the sky became dark. With frightened calls the birds flew upwards and away, their instincts driving them from their sheltered branches and in their hurry they abandoned the eggs and chicks they nurtured. Their babies' high cries echoed painfully across the meadow until at last they fell silent in bitter death.

From the depths of the Well Novica emerged unscathed by battle and the world froze hard around him. He looked cheerfully at the morning spread before him and with a sweep of his arm drove the light from the day. The first few snowflakes fell cautiously from the sky and settled on his human face, retaining their individual form, unmelted on his skin. It had been an unfortunate distraction, this detour to England, but it had its benefits. Illyria was gone, one less annoyance, one less deluded creature trying to prevent his destiny. Without their very own Old One, Team Lorne over in LA would be even more at a loss. He wanted so badly to play with them, until they were so exhausted they practically handed him that soul. He'd been so close to getting it, if he had only had another moment before Illyria smashed that glass and severed his distant hold on it. He had begun to taste its power but it had struggled hard to 

remain within the Slayer. Another few seconds and he would have tasted it completely, he would have fulfilled the prophecy and the world around him would by now be empty of souls. Now he had to find it again.

Disgruntled he reached out with his mind to the Lost Ones who served as his eyes, it felt like falling, hurtling down a narrow channel before their sight hit him. Several dozen were drifting blankly in their cage, their vision lighting on nothing in particular but sending him images of his followers and demons. His mind took another direction, rushing hard down a path that led to Spike, somewhere dark on the outskirts of LA. He was moving fast, alarm beating hard in his chest. Novica raised his eyebrows and sent out a quick enquiry only to be met with a harsh and foul mouthed rebuke. The vampire was shaken and in no mood to have his thoughts played with. Novica frowned and ordered him back to the destroyed Wolfram and Hart building. He'd deal with whatever ailed him there. Finally he swung his inner eye towards Miranda. With Spike fleeing from the scene he had no choice to rely on the empty vessel he had sent to siphon off the soul. He felt the rush again as he hurtled towards her eyes and then…

'Ow!' his voice was high and indignant, the only sound in the frozen meadow. He concentrated and pushed again, the rush towards the eyes. 'Ow!' he repeated. He raised one hand and rubbed his brow pityingly. There was something stopping him, something inside the Lost One which drew up barriers like drawbridges and held out hard against his efforts. Closing his eyes in concentration he approached again with more caution and the thing within Miranda pulsed warningly in his direction. Novica smiled softly.

_I see you,_ he voiced at the being. _I see you little soul. _The power behind the barrier hit out suddenly, a jet of protective anger which sent the Old One tumbling back towards his consciousness in the Cotswolds field. He reeled slightly and then let out a high laugh.

'Interesting!' he said to himself, his mood restored once more, and he opened the Shadow Path to LA.

-- --

'Found some!' the little boy trotted merrily down the cold paving slabs which covered the church aisle. His footsteps rang out noisily and their echo bounced off the high ceiling and ornate windows of their temporary shelter.

'Well, aren't you just a little wonder!' Lorne praised. Toby staggered forward the last few steps to where Lorne waited for him, propped on a pew with a kneeling cushion at his back. The child dropped an armful of thick candles into his lap, the last slithering uncontrolled from his grip and rolling with a crash under the wooden seat. He immediately dived for it as it ran away down the unseen incline of the church floor. Lorne watched him scuttle off with a cautionary 'Don't run off too far back there it's dark!'

He smiled softly, each time he looked at the kid he felt such a rush of relief that he'd got through to at least one of them, one Lost One saved, about a hundred more to go. His smile fell, probably more by now, Novica drank from them every day, there had to be hundreds, maybe thousands. The sadness reached his eyes and his dropped his head, shifting uncomfortably in his place. His wound was healed but the ghost of the arrow still pierced his 

back. He began to stack the candles by his side, they needed all they could find to fight back the growing darkness which had fallen over the cemetery outside with frightening rapidity. And it was cold. Horribly cold.

Movement and Sasha sat by him, slipping one arm over his stomach and looking up sadly into his face.

'Still smarting?' she asked of his injury.

'Uh-huh, you?'

Her eyes swung to the altar where Aviline stood pensively, her frail borrowed body weak from Miranda's neglect. She stood with her arms folded tight around her and her head bowed so that her features were obscured by the mane of auburn hair which cascaded over her shoulders. Sasha felt her emotions churn uncomfortably and nodded a hesitant answer to 

Lorne's enquiry. Her physical injuries were more or less taken from her by Aviline's power but she didn't know where to begin with the deeper wound her child left behind.

Lorne cast his eyes over Sasha's profile.

'It's not quite how we pictured it is it? I mean with the apocalypse and all I wasn't expecting a private room in a nice clean hospital but I was kinda expecting a baby,' he followed Sasha's line of sight to where their daughter stood. Sasha swallowed hard trying to steady her voice.

'It'll be OK. I mean, she's ours right. Her soul is ours even if her body is…'

Lorne caught her thought and squeezed her shoulder. 'Oh she's ours alright, and she's pretty amazing. Been here not an hour and already brought both of us back to life and saved the day. Definite slayer genes there…' his brightness was only partially false and his voice was tinged with pride.

'It's you she reminds me of,' Sasha said quietly.

'That's kind of inevitable, her being green and all.' Lorne smiled bashfully. 'At least she didn't get my horns.'

'Maybe she would have,' Sasha said, her voice faint, 'If she'd been born instead of ripped from me, if she'd had a chance to…'

Lorne shushed her gently and drew her closer to him. 'We could have lost her completely, we thought we had remember, she's here and that's all that matters right now. She's here and she's got a heck of a lot to try and deal with what with being born and being so special. Now it's our job to be there for her…' he looked deeply into his daughter's aura and sensed the damage painfully. He swallowed, suddenly filled with uncertainty. It was too early, it was too soon and he wasn't sure she would survive it. 'It'll be OK,' he said more to himself than to Sasha.

A clatter of feet and Toby was up and running again, right for Aviline whose back straightened at the sound. Keeping her arms clasped around her she turned cheerfully, her smile so strikingly reminiscent of Lorne's that Sasha couldn't help but smile in return as she caught her eye.

'What?!' Aviline asked Toby, laughing, 'What is it?'

'Come see come see!' he jumped enthusiastically, 'I found toys!'

'Toys?' she frowned with curiously, but even from his seat Lorne could see her eyes light up just a little.

'We have to remember she's a child,' he whispered to Sasha, 'She has the same growing up to do as any other, the same experiences to gleam from the world. We can still give her some of those.'

Sasha nodded against him and watched as Toby grew impatient and began dancing on the spot.

'Out the back! Lots of toys, animals and people!' and then he grabbed for her hand. He was so quick Aviline couldn't react and dodge him and as his little fingers closed over hers she yelped and drew away. Toby looked frightened and cowered and Lorne was on his feet immediately. With wide red eyes mirroring his, Aviline looked up at him and started to back away towards the altar again, hiding her hands behind her back like a guilty child.

'Sweetie?' Lorne began moving closer, 'Did you hurt yourself?'

Aviline looked left and right for some sort of escape but saw only Toby's fear and Sasha's concern further back in the church. Hesitantly she brought her hands out in front of her, slowly turning them so that the palms faced upwards.

'I didn't know it would hurt,' she said as Lorne looked down. 'I would have done it anyway, if I'd known,' she added quickly, 'but I didn't. Don't be mad. I didn't want to leave you there like that… I thought I could help.'

Softly Lorne cupped the backs of her hands in his and looked down over the angry blisters which scarred her palms.

'When you healed us…' he said.

'It burned.' Aviline looked at him apologetically. 'I didn't know it would do that. I'm not ready yet. I'm not whole. I'm waiting.'

Lorne frowned in reply and pushed his feelings of alarm to one side. She was hurt, that was all that mattered.

'What are you?' Toby asked innocently his eyes wandering in awe over her face and burned hands. The question lay heavy in the stillness of the church, and it was Sasha who heard it the loudest. As she stood apart from her new family she watched as Lorne reached out and pushed the hair behind Aviline's ear, cupping her face and reassuring her that he'd sort it all out, sending Toby to the font for some water. A bitter jet of feeling hit Sasha's guts, as the little boy ran past her, somewhere between love and envy and drenched in a gnawing and unrelenting suspicion.

Shame clouded her feelings and she sat heavily on the pew. How could she feel this way towards the being she had carried so briefly, the little life she'd felt ripped from her and all the pain that it left behind. Sasha thought of the glow in her belly and the joy and strength it had brought her. There was no evil there. Things were muddled and frightening right now but it wasn't the fault of the baby, of Aviline. She shook her head and looked back with warmth at her daughter and Lorne, trying hard to make everything fit.

-- --

'You must eat,' the Keeper moved stiffly to Fred's side and crouched against the wall. With one hand he offered a bowl filled with porridge.

'Collenberries,' Fred mumbled, 'It tastes no good without collenberries.' A giggle escaped her and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes lifted slowly to where Illyria's 

sarcophagus sat squatly, heavy and lifeless with the old one sealed within. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

'You are weak, please try to eat,' the Keeper persisted, taking her small hands and wrapping them around the bowl. He extracted a spoon and placed it in the mixture, pointing its handle towards Fred hopefully but her eyes remained fixed on Illyria's casket.

'She can't come back,' Fred said.

'No, the rituals state…'

Fred ignored his explanation. The truth of Illyria's' demise was vibrant within her. Her link to the demon was still viable, faint and useless but still intact. She sensed Illyria's end and she knew within that she could not return.

'You cannot stay here,' The Keeper said gently, his own voice tired and fragile, 'This is no place for a human being, you belong with your friends and your family.'

'I have no family.'

The Keeper raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'I have no friends,' Fred went on her eyes dry, 'I had her… I thought she had taken everything from me when she consumed me but I was wrong. '

'Then go back to them, you have people waiting for you and the shadow paths will take you there,' he looked earnestly at her face. He had spent so long underground with the dead, he feared the living and the entanglements of life but at the same time he craved it. He could crave her if he let himself but this girl did not fit this tomb, she was beautiful and young and alive. That she had escaped the Old One was nothing short of a miracle and he could not begin to fathom why she now grieved. He had to make her see that she needed to return above ground. The Keeper knelt by her on the cold earth and gingerly laid one hand on her arm. She felt like ice, her skin so pale it seemed transparent. As he talked he was aware of the creeping frost which snaked down the walls of the chamber at Novica's command. If she did not leave soon she would be imprisoned her in this frozen hollow.

'Please, he's growing more powerful, you'll be trapped…' The Keeper struggled to persuade her and she cut through his words.

'I belong here now,' Fred said, her voice distant, 'I belong with her.'

One by one the pale lights of the Chamber died.

-- --

The followers rushed to serve him as he emerged from the shadow paths bringing with him a gush of cold air. Novica batted them away with a dismissive gesture his thoughts intent on more important demands. He glared angrily at his broken mirror before gesturing to his robed magician.

'Fix it,' he said.

'But the magics needed are…'

'I don't care if they are as rare as hen's teeth fix the damn thing. It looks all shattered and ugly…' he grimaced, 'It ruins the line of the room.' The demon magician looked confused. 'Oh why do I bother?' Novica exclaimed, 'I need it fixed!' The demon backed away bowing and motioned to some followers to aid him. They surrounded the mirror and began a low and mildly panicked discussion about the mirror's restoration. Novica growled in their direction and the discussion immediately picked up speed.

Over at the enclosure the colour of blood spattered the white room floor. Spike was taking out his frustrations on the Lost Ones. Novica tutted and joined him, parting the magical enclosure with a gesture and stepping within its joyless confines.

'That can't be fun,' he commented, 'I mean they just stand there…' he looked at the victim in spike's mouth, she stood upright and motionless with his jaws sealed around her jugular. Novica snapped his fingers and she began to struggle under the Vampire's hold. Spike's moan of encouragement sent a chill through Novica which warmed his heart.

'That's better isn't it?' he winked and drifted around the enclosure. The girl in spike's arms cried out in pain and Novica listened absently to her protests and struggles as he talked.

'The soul is in the Lost One,' he said, 'I tried to use her eyes and the soul stopped me. Foolish thing, hiding in one of them…' a thud and Spike dropped the empty victim to the floor.

'Yeah well I wouldn't call her foolish if I were you she's pretty powered up.'

'I saw you running for your life Spike,' Novica mocked him cheerfully, 'it was a scream I tell ya!'

Spike eyed him viciously. 'You didn't see this bird up close, she's…'

'Scary?'

'Well… yeah actually.'

'So you don't want to go back there and…'

'Oh no, I'm not your whipping boy, girl's got some mojo going for her that I don't want to be a part of.'

Novica considered this for a moment. 'They're in a church?'

'Yeah. East side of the city.' Spike turned on the spot and followed Novica's pacing with his eyes. 'I'm not going over there without a little back up. I know you want this girlie's soul for your big bad plan but I don't fancy taking her on alone.'

Novica stopped and looked at him a sudden inspiration in his eyes. He motioned a circle in 

the air between him and the vampire and within its circumference a talisman formed slowly, gradually becoming solid. It dropped and Spike caught it.

'Take that with you,' Novica said. 'And when you get there let it do the work.'

Spike looked at the spindly brown talisman with obvious doubt. 'Me and a stick versus the green super-being?'

Novica smiled indulgently. 'She will have a weakness. You just have to find it. And that 'stick' as you put it will keep her occupied while you do.'

Spike looked back at the stick. 'And you're sure I won't get my ass fried in the process?'

'Absolutely.'

'And why aren't you doing all this, again?'

'Because I'm very busy and important,' Novica said tartly with a roll of his eyes, 'now get going.'

Spike shrugged and pocketed the talisman, sauntering out of the enclosure with new purpose. Novica shook his head with a sigh and muttered, 'Minions, they're all so…' he lashed out and grabbed at the nearest Lost One, spinning her in his arms until he could get a firm hold of her head. With a quick movement he wrenched her jaw around so that a sharp crack indicated her neck had snapped. 'Frustrating!' he concluded, 'You're all so frustrating!' He dropped the Lost One and walked casually to his throne.

-- --

The sarcophagus hovered by the bridge suspended on the Keeper's magics. Fred stood by the entrance to the chamber, her body supported by the buttresses which held the ground above their heads. The sapphires on Illyria's coffin glowed dimly with a false life injected by the rituals which now sent her deep into the hole in the world. The Keeper had found little objection from Fred when he had told her that the sarcophagus must return to its resting place, but now he cast worried glances over his shoulder at the girl. Her grief ran deeply and her movements were as unpredictable as her mood. She was one moment quiet and reflective, the next hurling the bowl of food across the room and shrieking with pain. When he had finally restrained her from the sarcophagus she had fallen limply into his arms in a faint. Illyria's' use of her body had left scars which would never heal and he secretly wondered how long she might survive, empty as she was. He looked at her again and satisfied that she remained passively by the door he began to lower the coffin.

The channel through the earth was dim below them, and the Keeper wondered if the battle between Illyria and Novica had drained some of the power from the graveyard of demons. Only the faint blue light from Illyria's tome lit its descent, jewels gleaming in the darkness from other graves as she passed. It was as though something was draining the light from the well, taking it from the air and storing it away, hidden and unreachable. He closed his eyes and guided her in the dark with the power of second sight, steering her clear of impediment and danger as a father might his child. Slowly, slowly until she reached her place and settled amid the others. The pale blue light died and Illyria was silent beneath them. The Keeper 

opened his eyes and drew a long breath. The ruckus of the battle was over and peace was returning to the Deeper Well in what form it may. He felt exhausted and unready for the next steps, aware that Novica's power was growing and that his ice age was penetrating the earth above his head. With luck the Old One would leave him be, continue his reign and see no need to interfere with the ancient workings of the well. The Keeper was impartial in all disputes and wars but he felt the beginnings of a struggle at his heart whenever he looked at the girl.

The girl.

He turned just in time to see her race for the edge of the bridge and hurl herself into the pit below and the Keeper's hollow scream echoed off the tombs of the Old Ones as she fell, the dim light chasing after her and leaving him in darkness.

-- --

She opened her eyes with a sudden startled motion. Something was different and very, very wrong. The last she remembered was dodging flying rubble as she raced along a corridor, desperately seeking her friends. She'd felt a sharp pain as something fell and she'd tasted blood. Cautiously she reached up with one hand and tried to feel for the damage she was sure she'd find on her head.

'Oh…That doesn't feel right,' she said her voice wondering. She tried to push herself from her resting place and let out a confused yelp as she moved away.

Willow looked down at her body, trapped and tangled beneath the remains of the Hyperion Hotel. She must have been there for days, slowly fading. Her hair was thick with dirt and her skin smudged with bruises and scrapes. Willow's spirit sighed and her lips moved in an irritated motion from side to side.

'If there's one thing guaranteed to piss off a Wicca,' she muttered, 'it's being dead.'

-- --

Lorne wrapped the last make shift bandage around his daughter's hand.

'I hope you realise how much I must love you, this is the last of a rare breed of designer shirt now totally extinct because we needed bandages. You'd think I'd have learned really, all the time I've spent sacrificing my wardrobe in the face of evil,' his tone was light and jovial and he tied a knot in the brilliant coloured silk to finish the job. When he looked up Aviline was crying.

'Did I hurt you?' he said suddenly concerned.

'I hurt your shirt,' she replied.

'Oh silly!' he laughed, 'It was so last season anyway an there's nothing better for a Mystical wound than some pure spun silk from the silkworms of er… well I don't know where the silkworms for it came from, I think possibly a zoo in San Diego or… oh who am I kidding I 

don't know where silk worms come from!' Aviline smiled at him.

'China,' Sasha offered.

'See, mommy knows all that stuff 'cos she actually went to school, unlike daddy who bunked off to hang out down by the watering hole with the girls and…' he stopped his eyes wide, 'And um… discuss wild flowers and things.' He looked with panic at Sasha. 'This being a dad thing is trickier than I thought.'

He patted Aviline on the shoulder and started to tidy away the remains of his shirt.

'Going to have to get you some clothes,' Sasha said, 'Won't you freeze?'

'Well there might be a cassock I could borrow out back,' he laughed and pulled his jacket tighter round him . 'But personally I think I'd rather freeze.'

'Just have to help you keep warm then,' Sasha snuggled closer and slipped her arms under the jacket to where his warm green skin lay bare. He wriggled under her touch, his flesh ticklish.

'Stop that!' he protested meekly, 'Think of the kids!'

Sasha was struck by a fit of the giggles and he soon joined her struck by the strangeness of their situation.

'Unmarried and responsible for two children in the space of a couple of months…' he said, 'My mother would be so disappointed, which might actually be an improvement from her usual _very_ disappointed. I'm so glad you don't have to meet my mother… she'd eat you alive… quite literally…'

Sasha listened to the soothing rumble of his voice in his chest and watched as Aviline joined Toby on the steps before the altar. Feeling sorry for her he had retrieved the toys he had discovered earlier and set them up for her to play with. It seemed that in the simple mind of a five year old boy it was more than obvious that Aviline was a child in need of a playmate and now she sat gratefully with him as he explained both the nativity and Noah's arc in mixed bursts. Sasha wasn't entirely sure he'd get either story straight as the animals came visiting the baby Jesus two by two but she couldn't help but be warmed by his gesture.

The feeling vanished as doubt hit her again. 'Her own power burned her,' Sasha said suddenly. 'Where does all that power come from?'

'Well you and I make a pretty unusual set of parents sweetie, but I get the feeling there is something else at work here. I don't have anything like the psychic powers she's demonstrated and that was just _in utero,_ god knows what she can do now.'

'And slayers are chosen not inherited, so I'm doubting this stuff came from me either, besides, slayer stuff is all about strength and violence and she's kinda.. well… peaceful…'

'Not all of it is about violence,' Lorne said. 'But I get what you mean.'

'What do you see when you look at her Lorne?'

He tensed under her body and she sensed it, the feeling adding to her doubt. 'What do you mean? I see our little cupcake.'

'Is that all? I mean, in her aura, her destiny?'

'Well I haven't made her do any karaoke yet honey, I think that concept is a little scary for a newborn. But I will make sure she's educated in the ways of Aretha before long…'

'Lorne stop sidetracking.' Sasha pulled herself up and looked at him. 'Don't you sense it?' She saw it then in his eyes, the flicker of truth and her heart leapt. She had been hoping so hard she was imagining things, just a scared new mom in a weird situation.

'Yeah I sense it,' he said, 'But it doesn't matter to me. I love her.'

'She's not ours is she?' Sasha said quietly, 'parts of her are yes, she's a part of you and me, she has something of each of us, but deep down, her essence, all that extra stuff, the psychic business, the healing, that's not us Lorne… doesn't that worry you? Aren't you scared? We're in the middle of an apocalypse we can't be sure of anything.'

He looked away from her and she saw his jaw set hard as he tried to rein in his feelings. 'Please don't doubt her; just look at her.'

In front of them Aviline was on her knees, utterly rapt by Toby's attempts at theology, giggling and laughing, trying to sweep her hair out of the way with her bandaged hands. Her aura sparkled in the soft colours Sasha had seen in the mirror during her pregnancy but beneath it something else lurked. She didn't have the skill to look that deeply and she was aware that she was challenging Lorne to do so.

He remained silent and she wondered whether to push the point further. She looked down at Toby and as though aware of the gathering quiet the boy began to hum the tune to the lullaby Lorne had sung to him. Every now and then his voice would break out with a word or phrase from the song.

_La...la...la… day for you… la…la…la…_

It was so easy for Lorne to look into the destinies of others, and it was a gift she at once envied and feared. She wouldn't want that responsibility herself but she longed to be able to see into their daughter.

'Make her sing Lorne,' she asked, 'For me. Please, just read her…'

Lorne withdrew his arm from Sasha and got to his feet. 'No, I won't do that, she isn't hiding anything, and whatever the 'extra' is in her, it doesn't change how I feel or anything I would do to protect her in all this.' He was looking hard at Aviline and Toby.

'Lorne…' Sasha began the anxiety high in her voice. She had struggled since Aviline's emergence, certain that she was just traumatised by her birth or emotional and drained from the last few months, but she couldn't put aside this growing doubt that something wasn't right 

with their daughter. She got up and grasped Lorne's arm, pulling him away from his path which headed to where Toby had set up stall. 'Please, I love her, I do…. but I need to know what's going on.'

He unclasped her grip and stepped away his brow suddenly lined in concern and his voice distracted. ''But' isn't a word I want to hear in that context….Unconditional love, sweetie, look it up in a dictionary.'

-- --

She felt as though she would never stop falling. It wasn't frightening when there was no hard landing to scare her. The sarcophaguses around her flicked by one by one and her descent was slow and gentle. Fred felt as though she was dreaming, her arms reaching out every now and again seeking something and all the while the light around her growing stronger. It pooled around her body and cushioned her against the sharp edges of coffins and jewels.

Illyria had been here before, she felt it, and Illyria was guiding her now, somehow, from beyond her tomb. She had a task that needed doing, or checking, or finishing. Fred couldn't decide which, and she didn't know what the task was. But she'd know when she found it, the tomb she was looking for. The name beat again and again with each second that she fell.

Levinia. Levinia.

-- --

Spike's heavy boots crunched through the snow leaving tracks which were soon covered by fresh flakes. The church sat tall on the horizon, the spire dark against the deep grey of the sky but with no stars to shine and glint in its windows. Instead through the ice encrusted glass the colours were etched out by the candles Lorne and the others had lit inside. Spike dropped his cigarette into the snow and stamped on it.

'I never liked churches,' he said, 'Not like a good crypt,' he cast his eyes around to see if he could find one but the snow hung so thickly on every shape that it was hard to tell in the gloom. 'Too many bloody crosses lying around waiting to hurt a guy, too much holy water dribbling out of everything.'

_Will you get on with it?_ Novica's voice said suddenly.

'Alright alright keep your robe on,' Spike sniffed and started to root about in his pockets. 'Ah, here we go, nice little magic stick, what do I do with it?'

Novica sighed. Spike waved the stick about in the air experimentally. Suddenly Novica took hold of his arm and threw the talisman far into the cemetery causing spike to rear back off balance. He crashed to the ground on his behind.

'There was no need for that,' he growled to the backdrop of Novica's giggles. 'Now what?'

_Watch._

The talisman flared suddenly like a firework and vanished just as quickly. Spike made a 

scoffing unimpressed noise and then the ground began to rumble.

'Oo,' he hazarded a guess, 'earthquake?'

_Not quite._

A hand erupted from the snow and grabbed at Spike's ankle.

'Neat,' he said.

-- --

Inside the church Lorne had grabbed for Toby and headed for the door behind the pulpit, directing Sasha under the door frame on the opposite side of the building close to where they had been resting. Aviline ducked under the heavy altar and watched mesmerised as the church shook to its foundations, grabbing for support instinctively with her bandaged hands and drawing back in pain and surprise. She held the altar cloth up so that she could see and tried to gauge each parent's reaction in turn. She looked at Lorne bracing himself and holding Toby against his legs as lumps of stoneware began to split away and fall from the pulpit. The little boy cowered, burying his head somewhere close to Lorne's knee and wrapping his little arms around his leg. Lorne placed one hand over the boy's hair protectively and the child's aura changed subtly. A wave of emotion came over her that she couldn't understand so she looked away and towards Sasha.

The slayer was casting her eyes backwards and forwards around the church, to each window, to each possible entrance. She was looking for danger and from where she hid Aviline could feel the power rising in her mother, she sensed, as she did that this was a mystical force and that the trembling church was the first of their problems. Sasha dropped her eyes and looked hard at Aviline, her aura a mixture of aggression and love which made Aviline's stomach flip with nerves.

'Say there,' Sasha ordered, 'drop the cloth and stay out of sight.' Her voice was more commanding than angry but Aviline flinched at the sound and dropping the cloth drew her knees up to her chin and closed her eyes against the din. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't how it happens. She had thought the slayer could keep her safe long enough, she'd tried her best to guide her and bring her to this church but Novica had followed. This empty shell she rested in now had followed and it had all gone wrong. And now she was stuck in this being, and not in the body she should have been born to, and her hands burned because it could not contain her powers. She was scared to use them again, it was all a mess.

The first tears began to trickle done Aviline's face. A strange sensation which choked her and made her head throb. She'd wanted a chance to be born to them and loved, and to be born complete, half Lorne, half Sasha, how it should be. Not like this. Like this she didn't fit.

-- --

Spike whooped with joy, kicking the zombie at his feet to one side. It crawled off in the direction of the church, its bare arm bones pulling it forward in sickening lurches.

'This rocks!' he cried with delight and sensed Novica's approval. 'Deeply cunning plan, Big 

Bad!'

_You wanted back up…_ Novica mused smugly. _They'll wear themselves out on the dead boys and they you can go in and clear up the mess. I will get that soul…_

'You know prophecies can be a bit vague… there was that whole Shanshu deal about the vampire with a soul, couldn't have been me, couldn't have been Angel, could've been both at a stretch depending which translator you used and that Wesley was always a bit rusty…'

_Is there a point to this? _Novica said

'Yes,' Spike said dramatically, pausing and wishing the damn god was there so he could look him in the eye, 'my point is, are you one hundred percent this bird has the soul you need?'

_Well even if she isn't _the_ soul she's an interesting snack isn't she?_

'Can't argue with that…'

_Of course I'm sure she's the soul! Bit of a coincidence if she wasn't right? Humanity and power? The product of? Demon… slayer? It's her!_

Spike rocked on his heels as he watched a zombie smash another window. He imagined the glass raining down on Lorne's smug little green face and had to restrain himself from running in there and helping out with the destruction.

_Not yet Spike, let them do their stuff first._ Novica retreated from his mind.

'Yeah yeah I know,' Spike said to himself, 'Don't mess with the green chick stil she's well and truly knackered. Not likely,' he scoffed, 'She gives me the serious wiggans.'

'Not as serious as the wiggans I'm gonna give you,' the voice said.

-- --

The noise from outside her hiding place was getting louder. Windows were smashing, Toby was screaming and from her left Aviline heard her mother fly into action. Terrified she peeked out from under the cloth, aware that if she just tapped into her power she could destroy every one of the creatures who attacked her parents. But if she tapped into that power then what? She'd destroy Miranda's flimsy body in one blow and then everything would be finished. For her, for her parents, for Toby… she squeezed the tears from her eyes and willed Sasha to keep fighting, just as she had willed her to fight as she had been ripped from her belly.

But she'd lost then hadn't she? Sasha hadn't been strong enough.

-- --

Spike yelled like a girl and was met by cheerful and derisive laughter. Willow floated before him in the darkness of the cemetery, her form brilliant with white magic and interrupted every now and again by a zombie which blundered through her ghost en route to the church.

'What are you playing at Spike?' she asked, directing flame at each zombie in turn to stem the flow a little.

'What the bloody hell?' he cursed at her.

'I'm dead,' she said lightly, 'you were so busy dragging prophecies and Lost One's out of the debris you forgot about me!' she directed a little magic his way in punishment and he jumped as though electrocuted. 'If you'd bothered to look you could have found me but instead I spent a good long week dying slowly.'

'Oh.. right… sorry about that.'

Willow sent another jet of flame towards a zombie.

'Suppose you're going to help them out now?' Spike said nodding towards the church.

'I don't need to,' Willow said, 'I just need to keep you occupied.'

'Hate to mention it Red but there's a whole lot of brain munchers on their way inside to munch brain. I don't need to help out.'

Willow smiled sweetly and zapped him again. 'Dead people know things that you don't.'

'Hey I'm undead too.'

'Yeah but I'm on the other side, it's a whole different level of dead, we get privileges…. I get the big picture, and I know that those zombies won't pose much of a threat in just a moment…' around her the trembling stopped abruptly and a final flurry of snow fell from the sky.

Spike took this lull as a signal to head for the church and Willow responded quickly blocking his way and tethering him with magic. He struggled as though his wrists were bound behind him and then dropped to the ground as though his knees had been kicked out.

'What's happening?'

'Well technically speaking, the beginning of the end, of the end of the world,' she grinned the bright smile of the schoolgirl she once was.

'Eh?'

Inside the church the zombies dropped in dozens from the shattered windows and advanced slowly on Lorne and Sasha. They would kill them both, and the boy and she couldn't let it happen. Her love for them overrode her own needs. Aviline had no choice; she stepped out from under the altar and every unseeing eye in the building turned to her.

-- --

Levinia. Levinia.

Fred's fall was slowing to a halt and she opened her eyes against the breeze. She was almost level with the casket now, pink granite and rubies and smaller than the others. She felt the ghost of Illyria move her and she reached out to touch it just as she had a year before when the Old One had consumed her. Was that what she was asking, that this new being consume Fred now? She hesitated her hand above the central jewel. If it was then could she bear it. She had no concept of what lay within this sarcophagus, only that Illyria wished it to be released. Did she trust Illyria that far?

She thought of the alternative. An empty existence as a discarded shell. She knew she could never go back to being just Fred, that the damage was done. She couldn't function alone in this body any more. Maybe this was her salvation.

The thing in the casket was ready she could feel it. It had joined Illyria in urging her to move. It needed her human touch to release it. With a sudden purposeful movement Fred drew a deep breath and pressed down on the jewel.

The Deeper Well erupted in flaming light, flying upwards with mystical force and scouring the hole in the world. She was dimly aware of each sarcophagus igniting in turn, crumbling in the wake of the light's intensity, her head spun and the brilliance hurt her eyes until she squeezed them tight shut and tried to cover them. Overwhelmed by the power from the casket Fred blacked out and as she did so Illyria's voice came to her.

_It is done._

When she came to it was on the cold frozen grass above the Well, her face was wet with the melted dew and from in front of her she could feel heat, heat pouring through the ground and air and thawing the meadow. Cautiously she opened her eyes. From the entrance to the Deeper Well the light poured skywards, driving back the heavy clouds and darkness and destroying Novica's little corner of England. Sunshine poured from the sky and warmth returned as fast as it had vanished. The stream poured upwards for a moment more and then vanished.

Debris rained down from the Keeper's chamber. Artefacts blasted into pieces, papers and volumes of prophecy scattered on the wind. Fred was propped on her arms, half collapsed, gazing at where the light had been. The sudden silence of the meadow, interrupted only by birdsong brought tears to her eyes. Was that it? Illyria's task? She tried to right herself further but slumped back to the wet grass. No Old One possessed her now, she lay as empty and as desolate as before and sobbed into the earth.

-- --

Willow jerked Spike around as though he were on a leash.

'Look,' she said sharply.

The light screamed like a comet across the sky and headed straight for the church. In its wake the sky shone bluely and the snow clouds melted away.

'Bloody hell. What in god's name is….'

_Levinia, _ Novica's answer came sharply and his voice faltered.

-- --

The first of the zombies was almost on her and at close range Aviline could scent his decay. She looked briefly at Lorne and back at Sasha who flew expertly towards the creature, a roundhouse kick aimed squarely at his head.

'Why aren't they dying?' Lorne called, Toby quivering behind his legs.

'Zombie's don't die until the source of their power is destroyed,' Sasha said between blows. 'Look for a talisman or a sacred object.'

'A scared object?' Lorne said in despair, 'We're in a church!'

'They came from outside, it'll be there!'

'We can't go out there!' Lorne belted a zombie hard across the jaw and watched him stagger back and right himself again with an inhuman groan.

'Got a better idea?' Sasha was tiring. The creatures weren't fast but there were many of them and they were strong in their own plodding way. She let one zombie slip and he grabbed at Aviline's damaged hands. 'Move!' Sasha yelled at her, 'For God's sake move!'

Aviline steeled herself for what she knew would be painful. She concentrated on her powers and prepared to throw them hard against the zombies, she'd buy Lorne time, they'd get out of there with the boy. On the count of three.

'One,' she said.

Sasha stared at her aghast for a moment. Why wasn't she moving? The zombie had a hold of her and was dragging her down off the altar steps with spittle gathering at its mangled lips. Sasha kicked another out of the way but they were clustering close to her. She couldn't get to Aviline and a mixture of fear and fierce protective instinct caused her to lash out wildly at the creatures around her.

'Two,' Aviline said, the weight of the zombie pulling her forwards. Lorne yelled at her to move, to hit out, anything. She let her eyes meet his briefly and saw the pleading and worry rich in his aura, but he was being driven back by the undead and couldn't come to her aid. This was it, she had to do it herself.

As she drew breath to count the final beat, it hit her. The thing she had been waiting for. She thought it would never come, her birth had been premature, she hadn't had time for this but here it was. Something had triggered it just in time. Aviline kicked hard against the zombie and sent him flying to the ground. Encouraged by her daughter's effort Sasha hurled herself back into the fight with renewed vigour, oblivious to all else but the mission.

It was Lorne who witnessed it all as though in a dream. He scooped Toby into his arms and retreated against the wall his eyes fixed on Aviline. She was glowing, with the healing power 

that had saved him and Sasha just hours before, but this time it did not stop at her fingertips. It poured down over her body and shone in her eyes. Her smiled widened and an eerie confidence filled her. It wasn't going to hurt this time. It wouldn't burn.

Through the high ceiling of the church the light erupted like a waterfall and rained down over the zombies, it threw itself hard around the walls and blasted the undead through the windows they had broken. The tallest window which had remained untouched shattered outwards and glass hailed down onto the cemetery slicing into rising zombies and cutting into Spike as he knelt helpless imprisoned by Willow. In his mind he could hear Novica cursing.

'Do something!' Spike encouraged, 'What the hell is going on?'

The clouds above churned and parted, fighting back and forth, the skies now blue, now red and purple, Novica's colours battling with the light. Spike felt him struggle and fall back, withdrawing from the churchyard and waiting instead outside its boundaries. He erected barriers with frightening speed, sealing the bubble of light around the church with his darkness so that it shone like a snowglobe on display.

'Great! Absolutely great!' Spike threw at him, 'Just going to let it happen are you?' But Novica was out of reach and would not respond to him.

'He has no choice, she's too strong for him,' Willow said.

'Who? This Levinia bird? This beam of holy light?' his voice dripped with sarcasm and incredulous arrogance.

Willow yanked at his magical leash again and merely smiled. 'She's his opposite and equal,' she explained, 'I was told she was coming,' she said smugly.

Spike growled irritated at Novica's abandonment and Willow punished him again. 'Spike I'm disappointed in you,' she chided, 'After all that effort to get your soul you let him take it from you. When all this is over I'm going to teach you a lesson or two. What would Buffy say if she knew…'

Spike flinched as Willow's smartly aimed blow hit the nerve he'd been ignoring since this began. She saw it and saw through his bravado. 'Nothing new you can show me Red,' he grumbled his eyes fixed on the exploding church. From the ground around him a few final zombies were emerging. 'it's not over yet anyway.'

In the church Aviline's eyes whipped round in the direction of Spike. Although he was hundreds of yards outside she could sense his words. She remembered the arrow that had pierced Lorne's back and Spike had colluded to take her from her mother. Her resentment brewed deeply within her and then she quelled it with ease. It didn't matter now.

'It's over when I say so,' she said and counted, 'Three.' A beam of light fired through the door of the church and focused on the talisman. The little firework display it had shown at its activation was triplicated now and it soared high into the air before exploding into vibrant red sparks.

'Oh sod it!' Spike called.

Willow's ghost applauded. 'Pretty!' she said.

-- --

Her tears couldn't last forever. Slowly cold and damp edged into Fred's bone and she drew herself up from the ground. Around her the meadow was strewn with papers. As she tried to steady herself with long deep breaths a movement caught her eye. The Keeper was approaching through the grass. Fred squinted in the sunlight as he moved towards her.

'You look different in daylight,' she said simply.

'Everything does,' he replied, 'usually better but I might be an exception,' he tried a laugh but Fred's face remained downcast. 'I cannot leave this place,' he said, 'I am bound to this meadow while the Deeper Well remains vulnerable. I have much to do here.'

Fred looked past him to the entrance and mumbled. 'I guess you do.'

'I need you to take this,' he said holding out a battered volume, 'take this to them and it will explain all. I was foolish not to see Illyria's plan…'

'Her plan?'

'Illyria knew Novica's weaknesses better than any being; I should have seen her thinking when she discovered the child.'

'What are you talking about?' Fred knit her brows with effort, she was tired and drained and hopeless, she wanted nothing more to do with this mess. She wanted to just end.

'Here,' The Keeper handed the volume to her. 'See for yourself and then take it to Lorne and the others, they'll know what to do and you'll see her for yourself.' He opened the Shadow Paths behind her and waited.

Irritated Fred looked down at the heavy bound leather book. The cover was heavily marked but the title could be seen clearly enough. In ornate lettering the word which had been resounding so clearly in her mind was seared across the leather.

'LEVINIA,' it read. Fred mouthed the world and looked up at the Keeper suddenly alert.

'Now look again,' he intoned, the spring breeze ruffling his hair and carrying his words to her. He faded softly into nothing and as Fred looked back she saw the letters move and realign.

'AVILINE.'

'Bringer of Light,' The Keeper's words whispered over the meadow.

-- --

The whirlwind of light was settling, its movements slowing in the church. Hesitantly Lorne and Sasha moved towards the altar where Aviline was waiting, the glow around her cooling. 

As they approached the light did too, moving past them in a smooth rush and gathering over Aviline's heart, she seemed to absorb it and then in a moment the brilliance dimmed and the church was bathed in the sunshine of the day outside. She looked down at them nervously.

'Hi,' she said.

Lorne raised his eyebrows, 'You want to explain yourself young lady?'

Aviline screwed up her mouth and shuffled her feet. 'Wasn't supposed to happen like this,' she said. 'I wasn't supposed to be born yet.'

Lorne made a gesture of exasperation. 'You can't leave it like that!'

'My real name is Levinia,' she began, 'I was an Old One like Illyria, and Like Novica but different. They worked for darkness and my name means 'light.' I was the only one among the old ones to represent that side and I didn't last long. Novica murdered me and Illyria revenged my death.'

Lorne kept his eyes on the floor and waited.

'They were my parents…' she said tentatively, 'and in that way I am still their daughter. My powers come from them.' She saw them flinch. 'But I am more yours than you know, you are my mother and father, you gave me this life, where my beginnings were don't matter when I look at you both. I… I love you and I'm not ready for this life yet… I need you to help me.' Her voice became unsteady.

Sasha sat heavily on the step and after a second Aviline crouched down to be on her level. Slowly the family gathered there with Toby hovering mesmerised nearby.

Aviline pushed on with her explanation, keen to finish it and rid herself of the pain it caused her. 'Illyria saw potential with you,' she addressed Sasha,' when she saw you were pregnant.'

'So she took my baby and replaced it with you?' Sasha said darkly.

'No, no I'm still your baby,' the hurt was audible in Aviline's voice, 'My soul is half of you, half of Lorne, just like you saw in the mirror. Illyria only gave me memories and borrowed power at first, to protect me and you. When she entered your body as part of your plan to defeat Novica she saw my soul and prepared me best she could because she knew it might be the only way. That's how I could guide you through the tunnels.'

'The psychic powers,' Lorne said to himself, 'I knew they were too great to come from me.'

Aviline looked at him sadly, 'Some of them are yours.'

'And what happened just now?' Lorne asked.

'After her death Illyria knew that it would take something big to defeat Novica. She'd failed so she arranged that the casket which held Levinia's essence be triggered so that the transference of that power to me would be completed.' She looked back at Sasha whose expression showed nothing but resentment.

'She didn't want this,' Aviline said, 'She hoped it wouldn't have to be this way… she never intended to hurt me, or you, its just what had to be done to win this war against Novica,' and she became thoughtful before adding, 'If I had been born naturally I'd have had your features, your hair, Lorne's smile and eyes. I'm your daughter with Levinia's gifts… please… you and Lorne are all I've got…'

-- --

Fred tumbled trough the shadow paths and crash landed in the cemetery.

'Hi Fred,' Willow greeted her.

Fred's brown eyes widened with shock. 'Willow!' a surge of joy rushed through her and for the first time in days she felt alive. 'I thought you…'

'Oh I'm dead,' Willow grinned, 'it's not so bad really, it has its perks.'

Fred looked confused and said 'Oh.' She looked at Spike still on his knees. With the sunlight restored over the cemetery Willow had cast a makeshift spell over him to prevent him burning to a crisp. A small raincloud hovered over his head and let fly heavy drops of water which battered off his leather duster. He smiled at Fred bitterly with a sharp twitch of his lips.

'What have you got there?' Willow asked.

'Prophecy,' Fred said, 'Does the name 'Aviline' mean anything to you because it was the weirdest thing, I was looking at this book and…'

'Lorne's daughter,' Willow said.

'Oh is it going to be a girl?'

'It _is_ a girl, she's in there… long story…' she said in reply to Fred's stunned silence. 'But trust me I have it on good authority from the Powers That Be that she's going to work wonders. Big powerful godly mojo...' she hesitated, 'its just a pity about the other stuff…' Willow quickly regained her smile and faced Fred's next query.

'But the book said… Aviline and Levinia? They're they same person?'

'Yes and no,' Willow said gliding towards the church and encouraging Fred to accompany her. 'But for the purposes of this apocalypse, kinda yes.'

Fred trotted after her, heavy book in hand, ' Um… OK then..' she drawled, 'I'll go with that…'

-- --

In the white room the mirror flickered back into life and the robed magician breathed a sigh of short lived relief. In his rage Novica sent purple rays of magic blasting into the Lost Ones' 

enclosure before storming over to the glass.

'Levinia' he cursed, 'Damn it why didn't I see it coming? You!' he hurled electricity towards the magician who dodged it just barely and spent the next few moments trying to extinguish his robe. 'Why did you let this happen?'

The demon stuttered inarticulately.

'I need that soul and she will not stop me!' he hauled one follower out of his way and threw him against the podium. His eye caught the mirror, the protective dome of light shone high over the church obscuring his view but through its brilliance he spotted the witch and Illyria's old shell moving towards the door.

'They know something, they collude with her in there,' he said angrily. 'Why can't I see?' he cried in frustration spinning on the spot and raging back up to his throne, 'Dammit I will not be shut out for long.'

His eyes fell on the figure of Spike, still magically bound and helpless outside the church with his raincloud drizzling over his head. Novica smiled slowly.

'Oh Spikey…' he whispered.

-- --

Aviline's explanation over, Sasha sat in a confused daze, the warmth of the sunlight pouring through the shattered window hot on her neck. Lorne watched as motes of dust danced above her in the air.

'I knew there was something,' Sasha said, her pain causing the words to tumble and jar in her mind.

'Me too,' Lorne said quietly and Sasha looked at him sharply. She was still stinging for their conversation earlier in the day.

'You knew?' she asked suddenly certain. He looked up at her with an apology in his eyes.

'I couldn't say could I? How do you explain to the woman you love that your daughter's part Light Goddess from the beyond.'

Sasha just looked at him in disbelief. 'I can't take this in,' she said, her hands clasped over her ears. 'I just don't get it, and how did you know anyway, you refused to read her.'

'I read him,' Lorne said and looked towards Toby. 'And then I pieced together the facts. Novica is looking for something, and he thinks it Aviline. A soul from a prophecy; if he drinks it he can destroy humanity.'

'You got this from Toby?' Sasha asked.

'Yes, when he was singing earlier, the lullaby. Knocked me flat for a bit to be honest.'

'And how does his destiny fit with all this, with her and Novica and god knows who else?'

'He's the soul,' Lorne said simply. 'He's the key to it all.'

Aviline laid a hand on Sasha's shoulder. 'Toby is the soul Novica needs to fulfil the prophecy, not me. He thought it was me because I was born of you, a slayer, and Lorne, an empath, that I equalled the union of power and humanity. But that isn't it at all. For Toby to be here now his soul had to be reborn and that happened when Lorne reached out to find him. Lorne's humanity and his determination not to give up on him, and Toby's resilience, his will to survive. That's a different kind of power. Novica was so fixated on Lorne, on me and you that he didn't notice he had the thing he needed right under his nose all this time. The only Lost One who came back, who escaped, and he just let him go. And he still has no idea.'

They all turned and looked a Toby who was standing wide eyed and gazing round the wrecked church in trepidation. He shuffled between a zombie carcass and the steps in an attempt to reach Aviline.

'I told you he was a miracle,' Lorne said. 'I told you if you needed hope, just look at him.'

Sasha looked but all she could feel was loss. Everything was falling to pieces. The Lost Ones trapped with Novica, soulless and empty, doomed. Spike deprived of his humanity and used as a pawn for evil. The Hyperion destroyed and Willow missing. Fred unseen for days. Lorne shot with an arrow, making bandages out of his clothes, on the run from the creature which stole the human face she had fallen in love with months before. It was crazy, an alien world she was losing her grip on. And now this, this final insult to injury, striking her at the most tender part.

She didn't want a goddess for a daughter, she didn't want her child's soul to occupy the empty shell of one of Novica's victims. She wanted to carry her and give birth and raise her, to see her grow and develop, to recognise Lorne's features in her face and encourage her personality. She wanted to teach her things and watch her blossom, but instead here she sat, fully grown, half Lorne, half Sasha, half Illyria's child. Sasha stood with a rapid awkward movement and tore her hands through her hair, she couldn't bear this feeling. If Aviline had died being ripped from her womb it would be better than this. She burned with anger and pain and primitive overwhelming hurt. She lashed out as he approached her but when she felt Lorne's arms wrap round her body she sobbed hard into his jacket repeating a mantra over and over again until her anguish echoed off the walls of the church..

'I don't want this,' she cried. The pain sat like lead over her heart and choked her, 'I just want my baby… I want my baby…'

Aviline lowered her head, a single tear falling silently onto the stone below and her voice barely audible above her mother's cries.

'But I'm right here.'


	8. Chapter 8: Levinia

_If Aviline had died being ripped from her womb it would be better than this. She burned with anger and pain and primitive overwhelming hurt. She lashed out as he approached her but when she felt Lorne's arms wrap round her body she sobbed hard into his jacket repeating a mantra over and over again until her anguish echoed off the walls of the church.._

'_I don't want this,' she cried. The pain sat like lead over her heart and choked her, 'I just want my baby… I want my baby…'_

_Aviline lowered her head, a single tear falling silently onto the stone below and her voice barely audible above her mother's cries. _

'_But I'm right here.'_

The same scene again: the Deeper Well with its Keeper before her. She felt the nervousness which had washed over her just before that moment and then the power; the brief surge of Illyria's strength running through Sasha's body. She had to do this, the two of them combined could defeat him and then she could go back to her life with Lorne, she had to be strong and let the demon in. But it was painful and she collapsed with the shock of it. In her dream she watched as her body convulsed on the floor, the blood trickling from her lips.

That was the moment. The moment Illyria had infected her child with her powers. The moment she had seen Aviline's potential and prepared her undeveloped soul in case she should need her later; she infused her with magics just enough to protect and guide. And Sasha had gone on unaware, filled with joy and surprise at her pregnancy, filled with curiosity and pride when her baby's psychic powers led them to safety, never knowing that all the time the powers were not hers by birth but poured into her by an Old One desperate for the defeat of her old rival.

Sasha woke and drew herself upward from where she lay on the church floor. In the gloom of the night she cast her eyes towards her daughter. Aviline. Levinia. Her baby once pure now filled with the power of the Bringer of Light, begun by Illyria all that time ago and completed on her death by the activation of Levinia's casket. If it were simple, if it had been as it had been for Fred, one minute a human being, the next a shell then Sasha believed she could handle it. Fred and Illyria had shared a space but they were separate beings. But with Aviline, with Levinia, there was no clear line dividing where one began and the other ended. Aviline had never been anything but part Levinia. Sasha rubbed her face wearily. Would she ever work it out? Did she mourn for the baby she lost or was the person in front of her the child she always would have been?

At the root of it all, under every question and circumstance there was one harshly lit fact. Sasha had let Illyria in. She had agreed and welcomed her into her body, to use it for her own ends in her pursuit of Novica's defeat. To use it for the Mission. If it hadn't been for the Mission she'd still be pregnant now. So it followed that whatever Aviline was, whatever she had become in Sasha's belly and whatever she became afterwards was down to that one simple action. That submission to the Old One. No-one else could see it. Lorne and Fred, Willow, even the child Toby accepted Aviline for who she said she was, Lorne and Sasha's daughter imbued with Levinia's ancient powers. No-one could understand what it was Sasha felt inside every moment she watched her daughter live and breath and move in front of her, a strange and beautiful hybrid of Demon, Slayer and Goddess.

It wasn't Aviline's fault it was Sasha's. And Aviline tried so hard to make it right; every day that they waited cooped up in the church, waiting for Levinia's powers to settle and strengthen before they took out Novica once and for all. Sasha was constantly aware of Aviline's eyes on her during the day and the sadness which lingered in her aura undisguised while she slept. It wasn't Aviline's fault she was the way she was. So why couldn't Sasha just love her?

Feeling the tears on her cheeks the slayer got up and tiptoed from the church where the others lay sleeping, just like she did every night.

In the cemetery outside the sky was clear above the church. The protective dome of Levinia's power which shone with sunlight during the day now became a sphere of stars and moonlight. Its white glow fell on tombstones and the gravelled paths reflected brightly in its beams. It was two days since Novica had raised the dead to attack them and their deactivated bodies still littered the grounds. A small pile was stacked under a tall tree by the cemetery wall and the shapes loomed darkly ominous. Sasha seated herself on the old bench by the church entrance and watched the graveyard vacantly.

Spike was moving among the gravestones, a long spade in one hand. He was visibly irritated even from this distance and every now and then Sasha would see him stop and try to root himself to one spot with willpower alone. After a few moments he would be propelled forward, staggering and swearing; compelled to go on with his task. Willow had decided he should be made use of given the trouble he had caused and now he spent the nights digging fresh graves for the zombies. Their shells had once been people and the deserved burial as much as anyone else. Spike muttered his way through the task by moonlight, and in the daytime he sat under the magical rain cloud Willow had created. If he didn't want to sit inside the church with the others he could just get wet.

'Fun watching him isn't it?' Willow's voice appeared by her shoulder and when Sasha looked round she saw her ghost on the bench. 'In a mean kind of way,' Willow admitted, 'But useful, don'tcha think? Graveyard's nearly clear.'

'How long will you keep him under the spell?'

'Well I was thinking until all the bodies are buried.'

'And then?'

'Novica took his soul. He's not entirely trustworthy. I'll think of something,' Willow said thoughtfully, 'I think deep down he's redeemable; he was before.'

Sasha looked back at the figure at the far side of the cemetery. His hair was brilliant white under the moonlight and he moved with the quiet stealth she had grown to recognise in vampires. Sometimes she had found it hard to remember that was what he was but here in his natural habitat she was amazed she could ever think he was something else.

'He could be useful in other ways,' Sasha suggested. 'He's a link to Novica, he was working with him, he must know stuff.'

'I reckon you're right,' Willow's ghost nodded to herself, 'But while he's our link to Novica 

he's also Novica's link to us. We gotta tread carefully.'

'So the plan is?'

'I'll tell you in the morning,' Willow said raising her eyes to the sky, 'which would be about now.'

'Aviline is waking up.'

-- --

Novica ran his hands down over his eyes and back up over his forehead. He ruffled his dark hair until it stuck out in mussed up tufts. He looked tired, especially for a potent demon god with a stolen mirage for a face. Technically speaking he should never look tired, or older, or different. Not until he commanded it.

At either side of his throne his followers shuffled impatiently. They were also tired. He hadn't stopped watching the church since Levinia had risen. He'd said almost nothing. He didn't seem to have any kind of plan but they knew better than to question him openly. They exchanged exhausted glances and waited.

In the mirror the clear night sky over the dome began to change, a fast and unnatural alteration which brought light to Team Lorne's little bubble. It poured down over the church and summer blossomed all around.

'Good morning, sunshine,' Novica said flatly.

-- --

In the shadows of the church Lorne sat uncomfortably against the pew while his daughter dozed in his lap. In her dreams Aviline stirred softly and mumbled and if he reached out he could read her trying to make sense of the world in her sleep. He didn't envy her that. After his arrival from Pylea, LA had appeared harsh, bright and alien, but he had quickly fallen upon the kindness of strangers and learned about the strange world with only one sun. The world Aviline entered now was less friendly and the weight of it rested on her shoulders. Whereas he could rejoice at his escape from a hell dimension he could only feel now that she had been born to one in the making.

Her hand tightened around his fingers and her aura shifted from green to blue. He looked up expectantly at the broken windows of the church from which a mild breeze was blowing. Outside the sun was rising again, bang on cue. He hadn't believed it at first but as he watched now he couldn't escape the proof. As Aviline's sleep became lighter so did the sky outside, whether she meant to or not her powers controlled the sunrise. Levinia, Bringer of Light.

He was suddenly overwhelmed with a powerful protective urge and he glanced over to where a chandelier shaped stand stood in the corner or the church. In months before the apocalypse, in the first days of its reign, the faithful had lit candles and left them on the frame in prayer. Now it served another purpose. The candles glowed against the shadows and as the sun grew stronger the flames flickered and dwindled. With her unconscious Aviline would light them each night as she closed her eyes, and they never burned down. A night light to comfort her.

Like any child, she was scared of the dark.

Lorne smoothed a hand across her hair, rich auburn in the now brilliant light. Stiffly she pushed herself upright and smiled at him, her cheeks flushed from sleep and her eyes still heavy. Despite her colouring, the greens and red she'd inherited from him, and despite the body she borrowed from a soul long dead, her eyes always reminded him of Sasha. He believed in her totally just like he believed in her mother. Pride settled tight in his chest and 

he smiled a good morning.

'Looks like you brought us another beautiful day, sweetie,' he said.

-- --

'I am fed up with this bollocksing rain cloud!' Spike was yelling. Spade in hand. The cloud merely continued to spatter raindrops onto his upturned face. 'You couldn't magic me a parasol to keep the sun off?' he shot the question at Willow whose merry ghost cocked her head to one side and smiled. Enraged he hurled the spade at a tombstone only to have it reverberate back to his hand in an instant. He tried to dash from under the cloud but it flitted after him and continued to drizzle steadily.

'Talk about raining on my bloody parade,' he mumbled, 'Think I'd rather fry.'

'That could be arranged,' Willow snapped her fingers and the cloud shot to the left. Spike dived under it, his collar smoking from the bright sunshine in the cemetery. Sasha couldn't help but giggle.

'Change your mind?' Willow quipped.

'Kiddies, kiddies,' Lorne called as he wandered down the gravel path towards them, 'are we tormenting the puppy again? Can't you leave him be for a minute tweetypie?' he slipped an arm around Sasha as he addressed Willow's mischievous form. 'Just because your all ghostly doesn't mean you don't have to behave,' he wagged a finger.

Willow sighed. 'Ok Spike you can have a break.'

'Oh right… Thank you benevolent one,' he growled and slumped down on the ground with his cloud still firmly above him. Willow manifested a tall glass of thick red liquid in his hand. 'Don't fancy turning the tap off do you? It'll water down the swine's blood.'

'So demanding!' Willow halted the rain and Spike sipped his blood sulkily in the shadow of the cloud.

'We're kinda hoping you might magic us up some breakfast again,' Lorne said making a move towards the church door, 'Pancakes would be good, or failing that waffles, whatever you feel like producing… Oh you've produced,' he looked at the spread laid on the ground by the bench, a picnic breakfast with plenty for all. 'I should have got a witch to cater at Caritas, we were always running out of lemons and yaks blood.'

In a moment Aviline joined them, her hand was now healed and linked with that of Toby who had rapidly become her best friend and shadow. Minutes after that Fred emerged. Still pale and drawn from her experiences in the Deeper Well she had nonetheless begun to rally. The emptiness within still threatened to overcome her in quiet moments but if she looked deep enough she could still find traces of Illyria. She would never be the same but it was some comfort that the demon had done what she had done in a bid to stop Novica. Whatever her motivations might have been Fred truly believed that Illyria had touched humanity and that idea brought a soft smile to her lips. Illyria could have destroyed them all in pursuit of her 

husband's demise, and the ancient demon she had once been would have thought nothing of it.

Fred nestled on the blanket Willow had spread for them and looked around at Sasha and Lorne, and at Aviline. She looked down at her own hands, picking up a knife and buttering toast with fingers which were pink and warm again. Illyria could have killed them all and as a result perhaps she could have succeeded in finishing Novica. But she hadn't. She hadn't even let them live, she'd fought for them. The smile threatened to turn to tears and she busied herself with the butter.

Willow drifted behind her and perched ethereally on the bench looking wistfully at the food and drink.

'While dimension hopping and super powers are one thing, I have to concede that this particular aspect of deadness sucks,' she concluded and slumped with her chin in her hands.

Lorne looked up at her sympathetically and opened his mouth to offer some words of comfort or other. Willow waved him away, 'Oh just eat your muffin,' she pouted.

From under his cloud Spike watched with muted aggression. He drained the last of the blood and his glass vanished into thin air. With wary eyes he glanced at the spade but it made no mystical movement in his direction, maybe Willow had forgotten him. Then he saw her glance up in his direction and he felt it coming, back to the grindstone William. But his hand didn't move towards the spade.

_Pick it up, _Novica said suddenly,_ pick it up and make her believe she still has control._

-- --

Novica was pacing before the mirror, switching views between Spike's eyes and the overall picture of Levinia's enchanted dome.

'I'm sick of this scene,' he spat, 'this happy little family in their pretty little church. Have they forgotten there's an apocalypse going on? Have they forgotten that I still need to get that damned soul?'

'My Lord, if the soul is within Levinia then it may be impossible to extract,' the robed magician suggested quietly.

'Shut up!' Novica raised his hands in anguish, 'You don't think that I haven't been thinking about nothing else for the last couple of days. Damn Illyria, damn her for this trick. And damn that girl,' he said more quietly, looking out through Spike's eyes at Aviline. 'As if Lorne's child was a shell worthy enough for my daughter's power to inhabit!' His daughter's powers. That idea frightened him more than he liked to let on.

He stopped pacing and addressed the mirror.

'So have you found out anything useful?'

_Not bloody likely, _Spike's tones reverberated through the white room_, I've been stuck out _

_here clearing up your mess… and where the hell have you been anyway? Could have let me know you were still creeping about in my noggin… fellow has to have a bit of courtesy or don't they teach you that in your particular hell dimension?_

'Oh be quiet Spike, do you know anything or not?'

_No._

'Well try harder then. And finish up with those zombies. The faster you do, the faster they'll find some other use for you or heaven forbid try and rehabilitate your precious little soul. You need to talk to them. You need to find out what's going on, what her weaknesses are and how I can suck out that juicy little soul and get on with my prophecy.'

_Don't want much then._

'If you prefer I can give you back to Willow's power? Come on you can be a deceptive bastard when you need to be, so do it! There'll be an endless supply of freshly desouled Lost One's for you to nibble on if you do.'

Spike's eyes swung over the little group at breakfast.

_Leave it to me boss._

Novica waved a hand over the mirror and shut off the picture. He was tired of looking at it; he was tired of being shut out by the rigid bubble of power protecting the church. It made him feel weak. The longer Levinia's powers were nurtured the more dangerous she would become but he didn't dare strike without more knowledge. Until Spike came up with something he would busy himself elsewhere. Busy himself with something which made him feel strong.

He tried to quell the unsettled feeling in his body which had haunted him since her emergence. LA was just one little city and sacred soul or not his magic's were spreading far across the states. He was months ahead of Levinia in that sense, another few days would make no difference. He'd find a way of hurting her; he'd find a way of getting that soul. He'd have his prophecy by the end of the week and it would be a bonus of the best kind, but there was plenty he could do in the meantime. He moved heavily down the steps from his podium and crossed to where a team of followers held a group of struggling soon to be victims.

'You must eat Lord,' a demon advised.

Novica sighed in self pity. 'I'm not hungry. I'm miserable can't you see? Levinia and Illyria have messed up my little plan and it's all so petty and personal now,' he pouted prettily and appealed to his followers with big brown eyes.

'A few souls will help you,' the demon proffered the nearest victim, a boy of around sixteen. 'You must keep up your strength. We bring you only the best…'

'Where's this one from?' Novica asked sulkily.

'I believe, Florida.'

The god raised his eyebrows. 'We got all the way to the coast?'

'Your army, lord, move quickly and as we move we bring you the most fulfilling souls…' Novica made a small impressed noise before waving him away.

'No, I'm not in the mood, I can't get _her_ out of my mind. It's driving me insane. All this beautiful darkness, all this pain and anguish and pretty little souls lining up for the eating and all I can think about is _her. _ And her little ray of sunlight!' He panted angrily while his minions waited with heads bowed. The robed magician pushed the boy forward a step and the god relented and glided towards him.

Novica ran a finger along the victim's jaw and pondered for a second. 'I dunno... I feel all… lifeless and drifty… like something's very wrong… I feel all…' he stopped himself and with a sudden motion he plunged his hand hard into the boy's chest and drank. 'Ah… you're right…that's better,' he breathed, and the soul channelled deep within him. His eyes flicked over the group of Lost One's in the enclosure, 'Who's next!'

-- --

'She's getting stronger every day,' Sasha remarked, 'She knows she has to do something soon against Novica. We can't stay here forever,' her last sentence was tinged with sadness.

Lorne lay back on the grass and watched as Aviline chased Toby between the tombstones.

'Why not? It's warm, it's safe, she's happy and we have our very own ghostly witch to supply us with munchies.'

'Lorne!' her voice was heavy with irritation.

He rolled on one side to face her, his breath warm on her lips as he spoke. 'I know I know, it's just, it's been nice. A break from all the bad and I don't want it to end just yet.'

'I'm not saying a little break hasn't been good, maybe it is just what we needed but the bad is still out there.' She glanced towards the shimmering perimeter of the dome and when her eyes returned to his she found Lorne looking at her steadily, his brow knit in concentration.

'Stop reading me,' she said sharply.

'I can't help it sweetie, I love you and things haven't been right since… well since Aviline.'

Sasha dropped her eyes to the grass between their bodies and swallowed to hide her emotion, knowing full well it wouldn't work.

'It's getting easier,' she said, half truth in her words, 'but I don't want to lose this mission, not after all this, and if we lose this now then it will all have been for nothing. Willow's death, Fred's unhappiness…'

'Aviline…'

'Aviline. Yes.'

'It wasn't your fault,' he said, 'it's all there in your aura, all that blame you feel, you can't lie to me honey. But I promise you, it wasn't your fault. We'll figure out the 'mission' another way. You did your best, and your best brought her into this world.'

'It's not enough, she shouldn't have been brought into the world like this.'

'Give it time,' he said, touching her hair lightly. 'Have faith in her as she is and not how she might have been. You've got faith in me right?'

Sasha nodded slowly.

'Well trust me then.'

She saw the sunlight catch his eyes and infuse them with bright sparkling colour. The little world around them was peaceful and warm, a haven created out of Aviline's desire to make things right. Lorne leaned forward and pressed his lips against Sasha's, sucking gently on her lower lip and pushing her back onto the grass. She tensed, she wasn't ready for this, so much had happened since she last felt this warmth and she felt uncertain. Guilt and her emptiness still ached within her. Undeterred Lorne held her closely and with the rhythm of his kiss she felt her barriers give way. She could never hold out long against him, the intensity of his emotions was always too much and she felt her self fall into his desire and his tenderness, her hands reaching for him and drawing him tighter to her.

She saw now why he never wanted to leave this place and face the burgeoning hell outside. On the one hand there was the mission and the pain that came with it, on the other this intimacy and safety. As he kissed down her neck with soft butterfly movements she opened her eyes and looked past the blue sky above and into the darkness Novica spun across the world and the slayer in her stirred. Maybe it wasn't Lorne's job to end this destruction but it was hers, it was her lineage and destiny. Even if it meant more pain it's what she had to do. He reached her breasts with his lips and she felt his hands warm and strong on her stomach, on the empty place where her baby had been.

Destiny. The thing she was tied to, the thing Lorne read in others. The thing he probably read in their daughter.

Lorne felt her aura shift as his kiss fluttered across her belly and he relaxed against her, pulling himself up to look down into her eyes.

Suddenly she understood. It was Aviline's destiny too. She could no more escape it now than Sasha could escape being a slayer. She was chosen. Like her mother. It was no-one's fault. A long time ago Sasha had been frightened of that destiny until she accepted that it was a part of her, a strength, a gift, and it made her no less Sasha than she had ever been before her calling. It made her more.

Aviline was no less her baby after all.

He saw the change in her eyes and as Lorne bent and kissed her again the empty feeling began to melt away.

A little distance away Aviline sat crossed legged on the ground with Toby where they were playing with the animals he had found inside the church. He had paired the donkey with the sheep and was marching them into the Arc. She watched as his aura sparkled with concentration and smiled. By the church she sensed Willow and Fred, their conversation light-hearted and their spirits laden with concern. Fred's aura was in tatters, gleaming bluely in the gaps Illyria had left. Willow's light glowed palely, her aura visible to all now that she was part of the Other World.

She was dimly aware of Lorne and Sasha, curled together where they had picnicked. Sometimes she didn't like to read them because of what she might find. Lorne was always filled with love, pride and belief, but each time she looked at her mother she found guilt and pain. She didn't know how to make it better and it saddened her. But at that moment something changed. With her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her Aviline reached for their auras and found them merging into one, the colours complimenting and soothing. The uncomfortable anguish which had always been present before was altering. Their pain was easing and with a small sob of relief Aviline closed her eyes and let the feeling of calm wash over her. She could make this work if only they were united. It was from them she drew her strength.

The breeze blew softly through the grass and birdsong floated down from the trees. The sun above them grew warmer and at the edge of the cemetery a long dead stream trickled with water.

She was roused by Toby's excited cry.

'Look!' he tugged at her sleeve.

Aviline opened her eyes and stared down at the once bare ground between them.

'Look it's pretty!' the boy enthused, his eyes wide.

A single flower uncoiled itself from the earth and raised its face to the sun. Brilliant crimson petals and rich green leaves which stood out from the paler grass, vibrant, living and new. She was almost ready now.

-- --

_Think you might want to see this boss,_ Spike's voice echoed through the white room and Novica's distracted mind.

'Finally discovered something have you?'

_Check it out._

Novica closed his eyes and let the scene form in his head. The inside of the dome was more beautiful than ever, every inch covered in rich foliage and flowers. Water ran clearly in the stream and as he watched Spike covered the grave of the last of the zombies. Almost instantly the grass sprung up to hide the scar in the earth where the body had been ripped from its rest. Levinia healed all. Spike's eyes moved from the spot where his spade rested to look at the girl, Aviline, and Novica flinched at her image. Even at this distance, even disguised as she 

was in that body, he could feel Levinia's presence. The same presence he had so proudly rid the dimensions of eons before. He ground his jaw. She was too damned powerful already. This had to stop.

'Well?' he pushed.

Spike looked from Aviline to the spot where her parents reclined under the sunlight. Sasha leaned contentedly in Lorne's arms, her back to his belly and one arm draped over his thigh. His chin was resting on top of her head and as he spoke he looked softly into the distance at Toby and Aviline. Novica had no wish to hear what he said. He could guess it was some loved up drivel. His guts churned with bile at the sight of him. The demon was a thorn in his side. He wised he had never taken his damned glamour. He wished he had finished him off when he had the chance. Of all the lower beings to bring Levinia into the world it had to be him didn't it, the unworthy ensouled misfit empath. She was contaminated now with his blood. Filled with feelings and love for the green skinned Pylean. Well he would change all that, once her soul was his, once the prophecy was fulfilled she would be purified of that damned humanity once and for all. And Lorne's soul would be the first thing he took when he was done with her.

He dug his nails into his palms and took a deep and soothing breath. In the graveyard Spike could feel the tension billowing over his boss in waves, and beneath it fear, and beneath that a sensation he could not quite place. Resentment? Envy? If Novica had had a soul he might have gone so far as to label it as hurt. Well, this would cheer him up he was sure.

Spike took a moment before he clarified his discovery.

_You want a weak spot, well that's it, they're her weak spot. Her link to humanity if you like. They got all lovey dovey a minute ago and the sun got brighter, birdsong twittering away, the hills are bloody alive. When they're happy, she's happy. And stronger. _

'Huh,' Novica spat, 'Should have known. Let's make them miserable then.'

_Ideas how?_ Spike asked.

'Let's start by reminding them just what they're up against.' Novica opened his eyes and dismissed the pretty scene before looking coolly over at the enclosure that lay in the shadows of the white room. 'I knew you guys would come in useful,' he said.

-- --

'Ooo look Spike's done!' Willow conjured a cool sea breeze for a thankful Lorne and beckoned at the vampire. 'Good work!' she said encouragingly. Spike growled at her and trundled through the graveyard under his rain cloud.

'Don't stand too near you'll drizzle in my cocktail,' Lorne warned him.

'I'd like to convene a meeting,' Willow said brightly.

'And the subject of this meeting would be…?' Spike asked dully, 'I know! Let's make Spike dig a well… or retile the church roof maybe?'

Willow looked hard at him, 'Quiet,' she commanded her magic towards him and he fell obediently silent. Spike smiled slowly, _Oh what a_ _good little boy am I, _he mused to himself. Willow noticed nothing, assuming that her command had worked.

The others settled on or around the bench by the church entrance and waited.

'The subject of the meeting is, where do we go from here? 'Cos I can't help but notice that someone is feeling perky in the power department,' she looked at Aviline who blushed. A butterfly flitted past and landed neatly on an enormous rose bush which had sprung up minutes before. 'And besides if we hang around here much longer we're going to drown in flowers or die of pollen allergies.'

Fred sneezed.

'I could make them pollen free,' Aviline offered suddenly hugely concerned.

'That's OK honey,' Lorne soothed. 'You can plant as many pretty blooms as you like once this is over; goodness knows the world will be in need of a makeover post apocalypse. But we have to get there first… to the post apocalypse I mean. We need to deal with You Know Who.'

'Novica,' Willow said. 'He needs the soul, we can't let him get it. We need to take him down, take the fight to him you know, in short… kick his ass.'

'Before he kicks ours,' Sasha said, 'Again.'

'Do you feel up to it?' Willow asked Aviline.

'God what a question,' Lorne muttered, 'hey sweetie, feel like taking down the tyrannical demon god thing who's frozen the world, eaten half its population and who just happens to be a third your biological father? No rush, any time this week should be fine.'

Aviline glanced over at him and smiled. 'It's what I was brought here to do,' she shrugged. 'He destroyed Levinia for a reason. She was a threat then and she's a threat now.'

'He doesn't seem very threatened,' Sasha said. 'It's been so quiet it's like he's forgotten all about us in here, I don't like to think what he's been doing in the meantime or what he's got in store.'

'He can't get in,' Willow said, 'He daren't even try, but that doesn't mean he won't start soon. That's why we have to act now before he figures out a way to get to us.'

'No offence, and maybe it's the protective dad in me, but how come you guys are so certain that Avili… that Levinia can KO him?'

'Its physics,' Fred said. 'He's the darkness and she's the light.'

'That just makes them equal and opposite in my book,' Sasha said.

'Think about it this way,' Fred said, 'You've got a room right? And it's pitch black, can't see a thing, really, really dark, can't see your hand in front of your face or anything else…'

'We get the picture,' Lorne said. 'Dark.'

'And you light one candle and set it burning in the centre of the room…' Fred looked at each of them hopefully. 'The light waves penetrate every corner, even if that candle is small and weak; it still has the power to drive away the shadows.'

'Light always overcomes dark,' Sasha said holding Fred's gaze.

'Its nature's most basic law.'

'I'm the candle,' Aviline said. Sasha was looking at her in wonder. She was going to win. It was that simple. Between them she, Lorne and Illyria had created the one thing that could not be defeated by Novica's frozen darkness.

'Bringer of Light,' she murmured. 'He must realise,' Sasha went on looking around, 'Surely he realises what a threat she is?'

'Possibly he just thinks she's been too weakened by time, or by taking the form she has,' Willow said, 'He's not as bight as Fred, he probably thinks she has to be a great glowing hell god to shine hard enough to stop him.'

'And doesn't she?' Sasha said.

'Nope,' Willow replied, 'so how's about we get with the planning…'

'Willow,' Lorne's voice was shaky, 'You're quite sure about her being strong enough to do this now?' His eyes were fixed at a spot far behind them on the perimeter of the dome. Willow frowned at the doubt in his voice and turned to follow his gaze. Her aura pulsed sharply with defensive magics. All around the outskirts of the perimeter and stretching back into the thick darkness beyond, the Lost Ones stood unseeing; a human barrier between Levinia and Novica. They were dozens deep, their lifeless eyes glinting in the borrowed sunlight of Aviline's' little world, until that light seeped into nothing behind them and disappeared. Novica was vast and powerful and suddenly Lorne and the others felt vulnerable. At the edge of the group Spike's lips curled into a smile.

_Only takes one little puff of wind to blow out a candle,_ he thought.

_Wind can be arranged_, Novica's reply came swiftly into his mind. _Thank you Spike, that was very useful, you know what to do next…_

Before their eyes the sea of Lost Ones began to part and the first clouds appeared in the brilliant blue sky above them. Lorne glanced at Aviline and watched as the colour drained from her face, beads of sweat pricked her forehead and he read fear in her movements. Her confidence was shaken and the little girl inside that body was afraid. Then rapidly he saw her aura change, Levinia's power rose up and the light began to shine so strongly that in moments it burst forward and surrounded her.

'You can do this,' Sasha told her.

'Does anyone actually know what it is she needs to do? Willow and I kinda didn't get that far with the planning…' Fred asked nervously. Lorne looked at her sharply but her point was made.

'She'll just know,' Sasha said suddenly, 'It'll be instinct, she has to let her powers guide her, like I do mine and you can't try to control them you just have to trust them.'

Aviline glanced at her with gratitude and Sasha felt a surge of pride. This was her baby, and if Novica laid one finger on her she'd tear him apart. 'You can do this,' she said again.

The dome which protected the church convulsed once. The darkness above it weighing down heavily and threatening to break through with deep and prolonged thrusts. Fred grasped for Lorne instinctively and by his knees he felt Toby grow closer to him.

'The sky's falling in,' he said, his eyes fixed on the undulating dome above them.

Lorne lifted him suddenly and held him against his shoulder, backing away towards the church. 'Come on Chicken Little, let's not get too close.'

There was a sudden searing noise and the fabric of the done ripped at one edge; a jagged vertical line through which darkness poured like water. At the head of it Novica himself flickered and reappeared, forming and dissipating. Aviline's eyes caught him and lost him again, always rapidly refocusing on his essence, but he was wise enough not to stay solid too long.

The Lost Ones moved forward as one and as they grew closer their neglect became painfully obvious. Many were thin and gaunt, their shoes worn through from their constant pacing. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of them stretching back into the world beyond the dome, a dam of soulless beings to drive away the light from their little sanctuary. Their faces were grey and expressionless and though their wasted limbs looked weak a sense of power came from each of them. Borrowed power distributed by Novica. Sasha held herself tightly, prepared for any sudden movements or attacks, her eyes moving swiftly from face to face to face. If they were to attack… she swallowed and focused. She'd do what she had to and it might not come to that. She looked at her daughter.

In front of her, Aviline stood still and apart from the others, her light still bright and unwavering, providing a barrier between Novica's army and the people she loved.

'I won't hurt them,' she said. Willow drew level and hovered by her side.

'You might have to.'

The Lost Ones grew closer, like the zombies Novica had commanded a few nights before their movements were slow and deliberate, commanded by the demon god whose shape moved darkly through their ranks.

'Just do what you did before, if he doesn't have an army it'll make things easier,' Willow whispered.

'I can't,' Aviline remained motionless. 'They're like me. Like part of me was before I was born.'

Suddenly Willow understood. Miranda's shell now provided a space for Aviline to live in. She had a loyalty to the Lost Ones that she couldn't break. She couldn't blast them out of existence as she had the zombies. But Willow could.

With a powerful gesture the witch sent the first row of Lost Ones flying back into their ranks. She was greeted simultaneously by the echoing laughter of Novica and a shriek of pain from Aviline.

'No!' she made to grab at Willow but her hands slipped through the ghost's form. 'Please no, it's not the way.'

Sasha grew suddenly frustrated. 'We need to do something!' she called, 'you don't have to kill them just get them out of the way.' A dozen Lost Ones fell on her and with their hands held her fast where she stood. She struggled but even with the strength of a slayer she was helplessly bound by the inexorable strength of Novica's multiple victims. Aviline's light trembled briefly.

'It's me you want to deal with Novica,' Aviline called, her eyes following his shadow as it moved before her. 'So deal with me, not them!' His laughter irritated her. It was as though he knew something she didn't, he was biding his time. She spun, her eyes high to the roof of the dome where his power bore down. Within her Levinia's strength concentrated and she sent a wave of light upwards, suspending the dome once more and beating back his darkness. The light around them fluxed and changed, now grey, now brilliant, now reverting again to twilight. Lorne looked up and saw the stars twinkling above them. But there were still stars. And stars were light.

'Come on baby,' he willed her. He dropped his eyes again and saw a handful of Lost Ones approaching him with malicious and empty intent. Lorne held Toby tighter to his chest and called for Willow.

'Little help here!'

'No!' Aviline warned her. 'Don't hurt them, they're people, living people.'

Willow hesitated for a moment and in that second Spike made his move. Got to weaken the godly one, got to hit her where it hurts. He grabbed his discarded spade and lunged for Lorne. Sasha's cries were muffled by the Lost One's who held her.

'You'll do!' he said cheerfully, and the blade of the shovel whirled high above his head, flashing in the moonlight. Lorne ducked and rolled, the boy still clinging to him. The child cried out and as Spike aimed the first blow squarely between Lorne's shoulder blades the demon moved to cover the little boy, bearing the brunt of the attack and struggling for breath between each painful hit. Spike turned the spade and used the sharp digging edge to draw blood, ramming it down hard over the back of Lorne's neck with a satisfied laugh. Willow's ghost appeared suddenly between them and she hurled the spade far across the graveyard, turning now to Spike and pinning him against the church wall with vicious force. He laughed 

hard in her face, a single trickle of blood falling from his lips.

'I don't get what's so funny!' Willow hissed. Behind her she was aware of Fred dashing to Lorne's side. She was whimpering and pleading with him and he made no response. She rolled him to one side and Toby crawled from under him, unhurt.

'Oh Red,' Spike sad caustically, 'That's a shame, it really is, because I do,' his bright blue eyes looked sharply to where Aviline had been standing. At the centre of the sea of Lost Ones Novica now loomed over her fragile body. The light around her was growing dimmer with fright, and pain, and loss. She couldn't sense his aura. Lorne was gone.

'You could end all this so quickly Levinia,' he was saying. 'But that was always your problem wasn't it, you just wouldn't fight! 'Oh no father you can't hurt them, they have souls!'' he drew back his hand in sudden motion and hit her sharply across the cheek. Aviline paused for a moment and then turned to fix him in the eye with her stare. Willow drew an unneeded breath and watched as Novica dismissed his daughter's impetuosity. But there was something untapped in Levinia that Willow could sense. Something brewing from the Other World and not a soul in the graveyard was aware. She felt the power rise up from the earth beneath her and waited.

'I don't fight,' Aviline said.

'Not even to defend Lorne? Not even to protect your mother?' he mocked. With a casual flick of his wrists he commanded the Lost Ones surrounding Sasha to intensify her torture. Behind her a tall man slipped his hands around her neck and squeezed.

'Violence solves nothing,' she said.

Novica looked down at her sternly. 'You're wrong. You were always wrong. I knew it, Illyria knew it. Violence is what makes this world. It's in every one of these precious souls you try so hard to protect. And it's in you.'

Fred's voice high and frightened. 'Willow, he won't wake up!'

Aviline flinched. She closed her eyes and summoned her powers, the light burned brighter around her and it began tentatively to reach out towards Novica. He passed his hand through it and the darkness pushed her back. Trying desperately to ignore the pain and fear in Sasha's aura Aviline summoned her strength again. But he was killing them, she was losing them. She'd lost Lorne, was Sasha next? If she lost them how would she survive? They were all she had. She couldn't let him hurt them… but he was tricking her too. She sensed it. He wanted to weaken her, he wanted to find the soul from the prophecy and he wanted to end her just as he had eons before. She couldn't let him do any of it, she had to find a way to end him first. If she did that she could save them all, The Lost Ones, Fred and Toby, Lorne and Sasha. They believed in her. She opened her eyes and let her light shine stronger against him.

'I know what you're doing,' she said to him, 'and it won't work. Dead or alive, they still give me their strength. You can't take them from me. They love me no matter what.' Novica squinted against the light. It was almost too brilliant to look at her now and around him he could feel the Lost One's guarding their eyes, an instinct too deep rooted to be dispelled by his commands. He tried to order them to press forward but instead they stood motionless in 

the light, animals in headlights all.

Suddenly Toby trotted forward to where she stood taking her hand and was pulling urgently.

'Help Lorne,' he was saying the distress clear in his voice and his certainty in her just as apparent, 'Like last time, help him.' Aviline tried to move him away and the child looked confused at her rejection, 'have to help him!' he said shrilly.

'Huh, if it isn't the one who got away,' Novica smiled pushing forward against the light which streamed from Levinia. A cloud of darkness followed him like shadow and frozen air washed forward over Toby. 'Come here little man,' he reached out pleasantly. 'Time to come back to the fold. One more for the pot, one more soul…'

Aviline placed herself between Novica and the boy, 'You stay away from him,' she warned. Behind her Willow and Fred froze with fear and immediately Novica sensed it. His voice was musing and belittling.

'Your precious father's dead just a few feet behind you and you worry about this insignificant…' Novica's eyes suddenly lit up. 'Now why would you be so cavalier about Lorne and so worried about one little boy…?' he stretched out one arm towards Toby. 'Oh little soul…' he cajoled, 'Who's my little soul….?' He looked deep into the boy and saw it sparkling inside. Novica gasped. Why had he never seen it, he had drunk from this boy before… how had this happened? He inched closer, his frozen darkness keeping Aviline at bay.

It was time. She had to do it now. Levinia's powers erupted without warning but she did not hit out. They bypassed Novica in a wave of rainbow coloured light and instead plunged deep into each and every Lost One in the graveyard. After a second the power stretched further and the darkness which weighed so heavily on the dome began to crumble. Novica clutched at his chest, she was deep within every body he had emptied.

'Send them back,' she commanded him, 'Send every one of them back or I'll take them from you myself!'

'You wouldn't dare,' he hissed at her. If he could get to Toby, that prophetic soul would be enough to end all of this in an instant, he didn't need the others if he could just get to the boy. Toby caught the look of need in his eye and turned on his heel, stumbling and tripping his way back to where Fred was waiting for him. Novica cursed and flung his anger at Levinia in dark bursts of weakening magic.

'It would destroy you to try… you can't take them from me. You don't have that sort of…' She paralysed him with a look and with a fluid motion she pressed her hand hard against Novica's chest. Her light turned first to ember and then to fire as the power of a thousand souls channelled through her body and back out to the Lost Ones. They began to drop to their knees as each soul reclaimed its shell, the physical exhaustion of Novica's injury to them causing their legs to give way. They struggled briefly for breath, to re-orientate themselves, casting their eyes around the graveyard in a desperate search for familiarity and loved ones. They remembered nothing.

Willow's alarm was growing painful. Levinia's powers appeared to be burning Aviline away 

before her eyes. She needed help and only Willow could offer it. Aviline wouldn't tell her to back of now she was sure. Commanding the elements around her Willow tore Novica from Aviline's grip and with her most powerful magics he sealed him in his human form, draining his essence from him and with a sudden burst of inspiration sending it hurtling towards the sky. As it flew her magic caught up and overtook it, a churning mass of blues and purples which froze and burned in turn. She threw her power at the atmosphere and in a moment a tear between dimensions ripped harshly through the starlight. With a final effort her ghost captured Novica and sent him screaming into the vent, sealing it fast as the sky around it turned from midnight to brilliant blue. Willows ghost flickered out of existence.

On the ground the graveyard became silent but for the low mumble of the Lost Ones now returned. Those around Sasha were backing away in confusion, the tall man with the grip on her neck staring at his hands in bafflement.

'I'm so sorry,' he kept saying, 'I'm so sorry…'

The slayer tried briefly to reassure him before staggering back to where her daughter had been. Fred quickly joined her, her eyes wide and glassy with tears. She had blood on her hands, Lorne's blood from where she had tried to help him. The women stared at what remained of Levinia's battle with Novica, the peace and beauty of the churchyard around them unearthly and unwanted at that moment.

The body was too deeply charred to recognised, it crumbled and disintegrated before their eyes until the earth around it was blackened and scarred; the rich green undergrowth Aviline had conjured utterly destroyed. A stench of flesh and fire drifted up in smoky tendrils, clawing at their throats in a harsh and sickening reminder of death. Sasha dropped to her knees and her hands began to move slowly over the burning earth.

'No….' she said almost inaudibly, her hands moving faster although her palms were painful with burns now. 'No!'

Fred was frozen above her; first Illyria, now this. It didn't seem to matter that Novica was gone. She didn't care that around her hundred of lives were restored. All she could think about was loss. Illyria, Willow, Levinia, Aviline, Lorne. All gone.

She looked at Sasha, at the hard refusal of emotion on her face which melted slowly into numb horror. Her baby, her lover, everything lost.

A movement behind them and Sasha's head came up sharply, anger raging in her eyes. Spike stood in the shadows of the church, released from Willow's spell and from Novica's power. The tears tracked down his cheeks and he smeared them self consciously across his face with the back of one leather sleeve.

'She gave me my soul back,' he said quietly. 'She didn't have to do that… I didn't deserve her to do that… Lorne… Oh God what have I done…'

A beat and Sasha's fury overcame her. She lunged for Spike sending him rolling across the graveyard, under sunlight and shadow, in and out of pain, she bored down on top of him and rained blows to his face and neck, just as he had Lorne. She remembered the delight in his face as he had beaten him and tore at his flesh now with her nails and hands.

'Willow should have sent you with him, you deserve to rot, you bastard!' her voice was almost inhuman with rage. Spike did nothing, under the shadow of the church he let her attack him again and again, her hands flying in uncoordinated ferocity until finally she exhausted herself and stepped away leaving him mangled and bloodied.

Fred approached her cautiously, unsure what to say or do and Spike looked beyond them both to the patch of sun where Lorne's body lay. Sasha couldn't turn in that direction. She could feel him there behind her, empty. She couldn't bear to see or touch him because if she did it would make it real.

-- --

'Hey,' Willow said.

In the diffuse surroundings of the Other World Aviline was still easy to recognise although she looked quite different from the form she had taken on earth. She didn't look when the witch addressed her but sat sadly gazing down at her hands.

'Aviline?' Willow approached her. 'It must have been a shock.' Her own short experience with this world still left her with questions and uncertainty, but there was nothing to fear. Around them the welcoming colours of the dimension moved softly with each word they spoke.

'You did it,' willow said, coming to sit by her, 'He's gone.'

'He's destroyed?'

'Well he's as good as. When you took back the souls from him I froze him in human form and set him to a nasty hell dimension. He has virtually no powers and one of those weak human body things going on for him. He's finished. Trust me.' Willow smiled. 'You did good, kiddo,' the laws of physics in this realm allowed her to reach out and touch Aviline. 'There's just one problem,' she added.

Aviline looked up at her with Lorne's sad eyes. 'The Lost Ones? They're OK aren't they?'

'Oh yeah, they'll be fine, look…' Willow opened a small gateway before them and the pair watched as the lost ones found their feet in the graveyard below. 'Every one of them got their soul back, just like you wanted them to. Even Spike. And I have to say I don't think I would have been so benevolent.'

'I couldn't save Miranda, I destroyed her body.'

'Sometimes you can't save them all, sweetie.'

Willow watched as Aviline flinched at the name. 'The Lost One's aren't the problem,' Willow said, 'You are.'

Aviline said nothing, dropping her eyes to her lap and returning her gaze to her hands. Her 

guilt was obvious and painful to witness. Willow took her fingers in hers and squeezed.

'You're not supposed to be here,' she said, 'And neither is he,' she tugged on Aviline's hand and forced her to look up into the swirling warm light that surrounded them.

'Hey pumpkin,' he said.

-- --

Pain. He hadn't felt pain for centuries. Novica tried to roll off his back and groaned the taste of blood in his mouth, sharp, metallic and new. The ground beneath him was harsh and his body was wracked with a dozen sensations he didn't recognise and didn't want to. With a struggle he opened his eyes to the crimson darkness around him. Another dimension. Not his, not frozen and wasted, but burning and angry. The air was thick with sulphur and smoke and he coughed hard.

She took every soul from him and emptied him of his power. But he'd seen her destroyed utterly by the effort. That flimsy human body burned up by Levinia's power. That was something at least. He was still here, sill existing. If it hadn't been for that witch he would have defeated her yet. He coughed again, hard and painful and spat blood onto the dark earth around him.

He'd rebuilt himself before he could do it again. Even now in this unknown hell, even with this paltry form he could make something of it if he could just…

A heavy footstep behind him halted his thoughts.

'Mr…. Novica,' a voice said and a rustle of papers above his head indicated its owner was checking details. 'Pleased to meet you at last we've been hearing a great deal about your exploits down below and I have to say we are pleasantly surprised by your success. Pity about the hitch with Levinia but…'

'Who are you?' Novica asked peering up at the figure, 'And what the hell are you on about? And what are those?' he gestured at the clipboard with its papers.

'Oh I'm sorry. That was rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself…'

-- --

'Daddy!' Aviline flung herself at Lorne with all the strength she could muster, burying her face in his jacket and breathing in the scent of him.

'It's OK,' he said, 'You're OK, I'm OK, hey even my shirt is OK,' he gestured to his chest where his silk shirt had been miraculously restored. Aviline giggled and rubbed her cheek against it softly.

'Hey hey, careful there sweetie, I can tell I'm going to have to give you some tips on living 

with those things,' he joked.

She blinked at him in confusion. 'What?'

He nodded towards her forehead, 'horns,' he said.

Aviline's hands flew to her face. Sure enough she could feel two tiny horns below her hairline. Her hands moved on to her hair. It felt different too, wavier, softer. Her eyes teared up.

'Willow?' she asked her voice trembling, 'What's going on?'

'Can we give the girl a mirror,' Lorne laughed.

'Wish we could but they're kinda banned up here… what with vanity being a sin and stuff,' willow quipped. 'She'll see soon enough. Aviline…' she summoned her attention gently, 'You need to know some stuff.'

Aviline felt Lorne turn her to face Willow and then settled his hands around her in an embrace. The gateway to the church below was still open and in its vision he could see Sasha bent on the ground with Fred by her side. His heart wrenched to see her so unhappy and he wished that Willow would speed things up. Just bide your time honey, he told himself, all good things.

Willow moved to stand in front of Aviline and smiled.

'Lucky for you you've got a pal who's in cahoots with the PTB,' she grinned, 'Well two actually 'cos Lorne's always been one of their star players,' Lorne raised his eyebrows, 'We just never really told him before 'cos it'd go to his head.'

'We?' Lorne queried.

'I got promoted,' Willow grinned again. 'You know, they felt they owed me it after my big death. I work for them now.'

'Well hey congrats! Check it out we know someone who works for the PTB,' he smiled broadly.

'Lorne you've worked for them for years.'

'Oh not really. And hey, have you seen Cordy about?'

'She's OK, now shush,' Willow hushed him with a smile, ''cos the quicker we do this the better for everyone, especially her,' she looked at the image of Sasha. Lorne fell quiet instantly and pain clouded his features.

'Aviline, you're not supposed to be here, and you weren't really supposed to be _there_ either,' she glanced at the gateway. 'It was all before your time, it all got messed up when Illyria interfered.' Lorne growled lowly. 'She was right to interfere Lorne, it had to be done, but its left a heck of a mess as you can see and she didn't want that, she didn't!' she said firmly 

when she caught his eye.

'So I'm setting it right. The PTB aren't done with you Lorne, they're sending you back…' Willow lightly touched him on the cheek and her hand glowed with magic, 'with a gift or two… you know... as compensation for your various beatings and beheadings over the years. Think of it like a gold watch.' Lorne frowned, he sensed something in him had changed but it was so subtle he couldn't place it. He focused again on his daughter and Willow turned back to Aviline.

'And you, you're a conundrum.'

'I am?'

'Well your situation is tricky. Miranda's body has been destroyed by Levinia's power, it's too much for one person to take, and in the meantime your soul is here.'

'So?'

'So I want to send you back down there and give you a chance, because I don't feel you got one, but if I send you back with Levinia's mojo then the chances are your next body will go the way of the last.'

Aviline thought for a moment. 'But he's gone right? Novica? So I don't need that power.'

Willow smiled, 'No you don't. The sun will rise on its own, it doesn't need you anymore to do it.'

Aviline remained silent and thoughtful, Lorne cut in.

'If you send her back as she was but without Levinia's powers, how will she cope? She's only been alive a few days but she's already ended an apocalypse and shared a space with an ancient demon being who brings light to the world. How's a kid supposed to deal with those issues huh?'

Willow nodded. 'My conundrum exactly. So you get a choice Aviline… I can send you back with Lorne as you are, with your memories and a limited selection of powers, or I can give you your childhood as it was supposed to be.'

Aviline looked at her desperately. 'But... I… shouldn't I…' she looked at Lorne, 'I don't want you to think that I'm hiding from it… and what if he comes back, what if it isn't over and I chose the wrong thing, and I can't help anymore and I let you all down…'

'Shhh,' Lorne hushed her, touching her hair lightly. 'It's OK. No-one is going to be let down… Follow your heart honey…'

Aviline pushed herself tighter against him and closed her eyes. None of this was supposed to happen, and now she had this chance just to make it all go away. If she did, did that make her a coward? She listened to Lorne's slow soothing breaths and watched the colours of his aura shine inside her mind. She listened to her heart and she knew.

Aviline looked at Willow who smiled and took both her hands. 'Decision made?' she asked softly. The light in the Other World grew stronger and when it dimmed Lorne and Aviline had vanished.

-- --

'My name is Lindsey MacDonald and I work with Wolfram and Hart,' he smiled, 'You may have heard of us, we were certainly around when you were ruling your hell dimensions.'

Novica eyed him suspiciously, 'I've heard of you, what do you want,' he was struggling to stand against the elements around him.

'Let me help you,' Lindsey snapped his fingers and the searing wind which blew across the dimension was cut off at the source. The land lay quietly around them as they spoke.

'I would strongly advise you to take on my representation,' he continued, 'and file a claim for personal injury, namely the removal of demonic powers and the unfortunate entrapment in human form.'

'Why?'

'Well we might be able to get your powers back for a start,' he said brightly.

'No… why do you want to help me?'

'Because that was a mighty fine apocalypse you had going there, I mean it really put us to shame. We were… I don't like to say the word struggling…. But things were more difficult than we expected and you… well you managed to wipe out hundreds of thousands of souls in half the time we managed to clear out LA. We'd like to have you on board. Part of the team. As a consultant if you like. Help us plan the next move, get a bit of that action for yourself but this time you won't be going it alone.'

'I am an eons old god with more power than you can ever imagine… how dare you try and win me over with petty promises and ideas about 'teamwork.''

'You're not interested?'

'No! It's insulting!'

Lindsey snapped his fingers again and the fires of hell rose higher around Novica. The wind returned, biting hotly into his vulnerable human flesh.

'Sure about that? Because where I'm standing you don't look like you'd last an hour here without my help… but I think that's what the witch was counting on… so… at least come and discuss the contract?' he halted the fire once again. 'Over coffee? Glass of something stronger?' an idea hit him and he smiled broadly, 'Ritual sacrifice?' he coaxed. Novica raised an interested eyebrow.

-- --

Fred's voice cutting through the pain.

'Sasha, Sasha get up, you gotta look.'

She kept her eyes on the ground where her hands were hard against the earth, burnt and blackened from her daughter's body. Her chest and stomach ached with crying, she couldn't think, couldn't focus; she just wanted this pain to end. It was worse than anything she had experienced before and she cursed herself for ever reacting the way she had to Aviline's birth. If only she'd known how bad loss really felt, she'd have known she hadn't lost her baby then at all. She'd wasted so much time being angry and hurt, resenting and drowning in guilt and remorse. And now it was too late. Everything was gone.

'Sasha?'

In her heart she had felt him before he even had to say her name. That connection which had been with her since Novica's talisman had mixed their souls all those months ago. Suddenly certain of what she would see she raised her head and looked straight into Lorne's eyes. His smile was infectious, wide and open. Behind him Spike was scrambling to his feet a look of shocked joy on his battered features.

'Now don't be mad,' Lorne said warningly, 'But she kinda takes after my side of the family.' He knelt by her on the ground and with the gentlest of movements offered her the baby he held in his arms. 'I think she's kinda sleepy,' he said, 'with the inter-dimensional voyaging and all, but she's OK.'

As Toby tottered over to look at the new arrival, Sasha's eyes took in every detail. Every beautiful perfect detail. 'She told me she'd have had my hair and your eyes, and she does,' she breathed in wonder. 'And these!' she laughed suddenly in relief and joy, her eyes catching sight of the tiny buds of horns.

'Yeah like I said, takes after my side of the family,' Lorne said awkwardly, 'but I can promise you, she turns out a beauty, she really does, you don't have to worry about her turning out like my Mom.' He grinned hard as though this was the best news in the world, and on reflection it probably was. 'She doesn't grow a beard or anything,' he added as extra reassurance.

Sasha managed to draw her eyes away from Aviline long enough to look at Lorne. His face was unbruised and untouched, and she lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, 'And you're OK?'

'You kidding me? It's a glorious day, we just ended an apocalypse, and I get my girl, my baby and my life back all at once. I'm quitting while I'm ahead.' He looked round at the groups of former Lost Ones clumped on the grass talking and smiled at the scene. 'Now I don't mean to be a party pooper, and you me and the little'un have a heck of a lot of new baby bonding to do, but we need to figure out a way of getting this lot back to their homes, and finding ourselves a little home of our own. So I'm thinking somewhere big, somewhere fun, somewhere bright and sparkling and new. Vegas anyone?' he asked.

'No,' Sasha and Fred said in unison.

-- --

Far above the church in the Other World at the heart of the PTB's realm, Willow looked into the gateway and watched as Sasha's life changed forever below her. This time with a bit of luck the change for the better would last. The task Sasha, Lorne and Fred were set would never really end, that was part of the gig with the PTB, the evil just kept on coming, but Willow could earn them a break for a while.

'Does he know yet?' Cordelia moved and sat beside Willow, peering over her shoulder at Lorne.

'About his gift? Not yet.'

'Going to tell him?'

'He'll know soon enough. I think he deserves a little rest right now,' she looked at her old friend, 'You know to settle into parenthood and all. Call it paternity leave.'

'He makes a great dad,' Cordy conceded. 'And when the time comes I know he'll do the right thing. He always did.'

'That's why we chose him,' Willow replied. 'And we're here to help him; he's not on his own.' She smiled contentedly at the little reunion and her heart ached for everything that was the life she had lost, but everything had its reason and as reasons went this was a good one. 'Be happy,' she said.


	9. Chapter 9 : Night Music

'_Does he know yet?' Cordelia moved and sat beside Willow, peering over her shoulder at Lorne._

'_About his gift? Not yet.'_

'_Going to tell him?'_

'_He'll know soon enough. I think he deserves a little rest right now.' She smiled contentedly at the little reunion and her heart ached for everything that was the life she had lost, but everything had its reason and as reasons went this was a good one. 'Be happy,' she said._

'No way, he is so totally into you, you're just in denial!' Lucy lounged with one leg hanging off the couch arm and her shoe dangling precariously from one toe. She kicked it back and forth over her heel and dipped a long spoon into the tub of ice cream in her lap. The cordless phone was nestled in the crook of her neck and her eyes were fixed on the muted TV. The jabber of conversation filled the room with tinny resonance as her best friend gave her the low down on the boy she wanted to ask her to prom.

'You so have to force the issue, Monice,' Lucy said sternly, 'If he doesn't do the asking on Monday you're gonna have to do it for him… wah? No he so likes you! You'd knock him dead in that dress anyhow…. Yeah I know he's a little older but that's a good thing…' a knock on the door caused her to move the ice cream to the table and pad in her socks to the hallway. 'Yeah its just my dad he keeps forgetting his keys, I swear his memory is gone since mum left, he's not right,' she joked but the pain was just beneath the surface, 'Hang on while I let him in will ya?' she rummaged in the keybox while the shadow of a man hovered in the glass panels of the door. After as second she found the key and let him in, 'Hey Dad,' a quick kiss and back to the phone, 'So anyhow did you pick the shoes yet because if not we need to have a serious trip to the mall tomorrow, time is running out!' she laughed easily and slumped back into her place by the TV. Her father crossed the room to his desk and turned his back to her. 'Yeah I think blue with that…' she went on, 'What do you…? Monice? Monice?' she looked at the lifeless cordless, 'Hey that's weird, hey dad did we recharge this last night or did I forget again,' a guilty giggle. 'Dad?'

He turned to her and for a second she saw something that wasn't her father within him. Then his face smiled with the familiar expression she had known for sixteen years. 'Hey you OK? She said warily, 'You look a bit…'

A thunder of hammering on their front door and alarm crossed her dad's face.

'What the heck?' Lucy said and made for the hall again.

'No wait!' her father coming after her now.

'It's OK I just want to look through the glass, I won't let them in if they're nuts or anything…'

She reached the hall and behind the glass he could see a slight dark figure with a crop of bleach blond hair. He must have seen her move behind the frosting and an English voice called through to her.

'Invite me in!'

'What? No way! Are you deficient or something?'

'Let me in!' he repeated more urgently, 'For God's sake it's not me who wants to hurt you!' He began kicking harder at the door.

'Well you could have fooled…' she started and then she felt the hands at her neck, cold and powerful, choking her words from her, 'Da…?' she wheezed. She tried to wrestle him off of her, watching her own struggle in the glass of the door, the blond man's shadow moving outside in frustration. He kicked again at the panelling and it gave way, the door swinging in on its hinges. Spike slammed against the invisible wall which protected her from him but not from her father.

'Invite me!'

Lucy looked wildly at him, the grip on her throat tightening but changing, the shape of her father's hands morphing, the cold becoming clammy and yet burning down into her skin, she felt something at her back, sharp and knife like and a putrid stench floated over her shoulder from where her father's mouth had been.

'Holy crap,' Spike said, his eyes wide. 'Kid, please!'

'C..come.. in…' she spluttered. At the same instant the sharpness at her back plunged hard into her flesh and the world went dark.

-- --

The vampire let out a grunt as his back smashed against the alley wall. He began to slump towards the ground but before his body had tracked a few inches down the brickwork Sasha was on him again. She pulled him by the collar and spun him to face her before skipping back and aiming a kick at the level of his heart. Their reflections glimmered in the puddles and on the surface of the wet concrete and he lunged forward blindly half in defence and half attacking. Sasha side stepped him easily and a stake flashed in the air between them before finding its home between his ribs. As it plunged through his back the vampire arched in shock and Sasha was smattered with the cloud of dust his body left behind. She coughed and brushed down her shoulders, raising one hand to wipe away the debris which tickled her cheek but managing only to smear dirt over her face.

Movement behind her in the alley and a voice sighed out a meek protest.

'You did it again, you're staking my clientele!'

Sasha shook her head in faint amusement at Lorne's complaint, 'He had his fangs in a girl's neck, she took off when I caught him.'

Another sigh and Lorne joined her, leaving the door of the bar slightly ajar so that light warmth and music spilled out over the damp alley. Sasha widened her eyes at tonight's ensemble, a brilliant red suit with a high mandarin collar and gold stitching. His hair was 

freshly bleached and gelled into position and his fingers glinted with the occasional ring. She'd give him one of those rings, she smiled.

'I'm not saying you shouldn't have dragged him off her but couldn't you have just… you know… persuaded him in the direction of the bar? I do a great vole-otter mix... best this side of town… and I'm sure if he's just tried it he would have…' he hesitated at her expression, 'No?'

She shook her head again and Lorne deflated, 'Well OK but just come inside for a bit and stop driving people off for an hour or so,' he slipped his arm around her shoulder and began to steer her back to the door where _Ain't No Sunshine _could be heard being murdered by the latest demon to mount the stage. Lorne chuckled to himself, 'Vamps, their taste in music is so predictable…' Sasha half turned against his arm and looked back down the alley.

'It's quieter than usual,' she said.

'That 'cos you keep killing them all, business is quieter too, and I've only had this place a couple of months, sugar, you aren't helping.'

'No I mean he's the only vamp I've seen all night and I went right across town on patrol.'

'So they're all behaving and you stake the one poor guy who came out for a drink…'

'Lorne! For the last time he wasn't headed for your bar he was attacking someone!'

'He might have been on his way and just got distracted…'

'Lorne!' she punched him playfully in the ribs before realising her strength. Lorne winced manfully for a second before conceding and clinging to his side in melodrama. She relented and smilingly cradled his head in her hands before pulling him close. She rocked him in a slow side to side movement and looked up into his face.

'So you're not busy in there then?'

'Thanks to you, no…' he pouted. 'I dunno, you're right, it has been quiet. It was great the first few weeks, like the demons had been waiting on things coming back to normal in LA, and then just when you think its normal and you've got them belting out the Everley Brothers on a Tuesday night they all slink off again, something's bothering them, I don't think we're done here yet, maybe I should ask around inside, someone's bound to have heard something…'

Sasha cut him off with a single movement of her lips to his, 'But you're not busy… right… now…' she repeated. Lorne's eyes twinkled in the light from the door.

'Not so busy no… I'm sure they can spare me.' He allowed himself to lean down and cover her lips with his while her body continued that swaying movement against him. His hands slipped under her short leather jacket and began to massage the taut muscles of her back into relaxation. Sasha reached up entwining her fingers in his hair and pulling him down harder, dragging him into the shadow of the alley and allowing the door to swing fully shut leaving them in darkness. Lorne felt her body press harder into his, her urgency barely disguised.

'What in the alley?' he gasped.

Sasha nodded against his neck, reaching down to the fastenings of his clothes. Lorne let out a barely stifled giggle.

'Alleys hold a special place in my heart,' she said softly as she worked, 'You and I had our first meaningful conversation in an alley...'

'You were trying to kill me at the time and I was hiding from a bunch of highly trained government demon killers,' Lorne said, 'That's not my most romantic memory,'

'Maybe I can fix that,' she ran her hands hard down over his chest, knowing that her fingernails were picking out his most sensitive areas beneath the material. Lorne inhaled 

sharply and leaned back against the wall; his eyes half closed as she began to flick open his shirt buttons and replace her fingers with her lips. The sensation began to pulse deeply through his flesh, spinning out in spirals from her touch and tripping a cascade of colour. His lips parted softly in a low hum and he let his focus drift so that the darkness of the opposite wall blurred and faded into the sparkling tones of her aura and his pleasure.

The police car slowed to a halt at the entrance to the alley and with a smooth and almost silent whirr the passenger window wound down. The cop peered out into the darkness with a doubtful expression on his face.

'This is where they come,' the voice said behind him.

The man turned into the gloom of the car interior to where the hooded figure sat head bowed in the back. Secretly he was glad its eyes were covered, all seeing but hideously white and inhuman.

'Well you would know,' he conceded, 'Glad to have your kind back on board, we need a little back up of the mystical variety… not that I hold with magic stuff normally, magic got us all in this fix in the first place.' He looked back down the alley. 'But you're sure it's here?'

'Yes, they congregate here. I sense them. Many different species of demon within those walls. Each night they come. They partake of drink and night music.'

'Bar huh? Hmm we've seen demon joints before. They were never much trouble. Went to one or two myself to wind down… there was this one place a few years ago now with a kickin' karaoke machine and the dude running it,' he laughed, 'well he was a scream, big green fella with a set of pipes on him like a diva…. now that was entertainment…'

'Silence,' the Seeker said sharply, his voice undulating with the distorted sound of power. 'They congregate here. We have orders to find them and control the demon population once and for all.'

The cop wound the window back up, his eyes aching from trying to see into the dark. 'Well we'll add it to the inventory,' he flicked pages on a clipboard, 'And we'll work our way round to it once we've done the others. The Vamp nests and brothels are more dangerous than this place. There are all kinds down here, but they're mainly just lying low... they might even be useful to us… demons talk while they drink.'

'Maybe… but do not let them lie too long,' the Seeker warned.

'Yeah yeah I get it. Don't want it getting out of hand like the last time, whole freaking mess we have to clear up still from that apocalypse thing. But keep your cape on…' The Seeker hissed at him but was ignored by the cop who was bent in concentration over the inventory, 'The Operation has already recommenced, the others are already taking out some of the nests tonight and it won't be long until LA is demon free.'

The radio crackled on the dashboard and both the cop and Seeker listened intently to the flurry of messages crossing LA.

'Looks like there's been another,' the cop said at length. He turned and glared at the Seeker, 'You're really not turning up the goods with that one are you? This thing is killing nightly, getting into houses with no force at all, leaving the victims skewered on that _thing_ and you can't tell us what it is or where it's from? You can't find the damn thing.'

'It hides,' the Seeker said simply.

'You're a Seeker, aren't you getting the irony here?'

'I cannot seek this creature; it does not hide with magics.' The Seeker explained as though the cop were a child, 'I find only those who hide with magics. Demons cloaked beneath glamours or places such as this cloaked beneath protective spells,' the Seeker gestured towards Lorne's club, 'This thing uses no magic.'

The cop rubbed his face wearily. 'It's killing kids, teenagers...'

'It is often the way, they are fresh and vital,' the Seeker's voice was a little too comfortable with this idea and the cop grimaced.

'So if we can't trace its magic how else to we get it?'

'All creatures leave a trace, an essence; you just need to find someone who can read it.'

'I'd be better of with a damn dog,' the cop grumbled, 'Sniff the bastard out.'

-- --

Fred turned the page hesitantly, her eyes pulled back by the doubt that she had missed something vital on the paper. Eventually she tore them from the words and moved to the next sheet, her brow knitted in concentration. Beside her Aviline gurgled in her sleep, it was remarkably quiet above the bar, not that Fred would have protested at the noise even if it had penetrated the walls of the building to their rooms. She was glad Caritas had been reformed, Lorne had never quite felt right without it and it reminded her of a long forgotten time when she had first arrived from Pylea. She had trusted him then, it was a place of sanctuary and she needed one now.

'Let's hope no-one blows it up this time huh?' she absently said to the baby and turned another page of the heavy volume suspended on her lap. ''Cos that would be really unfair, to have it happen again, I mean... Do you know about that stuff?' she looked at Aviline curiously, 'I know I told you in the church but I don't know what you remember now, now you're just… well now you're Aviline.'

Fred caught herself. She struggled with baby Aviline's arrival. On the one hand she could see the joy it brought to Lorne and Sasha to have their baby restored with the knowledge that she was theirs alone and cleansed of the bad memories and dangerous power Levinia had wielded. But on the other hand Fred felt a pain she was pretty sure the others would never understand. She had shared a body with Illyria, just as Aviline had shared her space with Levinia and Fred knew that the loss was hard to bear.

'Do you feel it honey?' she asked, 'Do you miss her?' she let her hand touch the baby's brow smooth and relaxed but marked with the buds of horns she had inherited from Lorne. 'Maybe it's just me right? I mean it was different for both of us, but I like to think you understand… everyone thinks its must be so great to have Me back… and it is… but she hollowed me out when she took me and she filled that space and now there's just this empty part I can't fill. Maybe you don't have that bit….' Aviline smiled in her sleep and Fred watched as her tiny hands moved instinctively as she rested, 'No maybe you don't have that bit,' Fred repeated partly glad and partly terribly alone.

She looked back at the book and traced the colours on the page, letting the image she saw there sooth her.

'I miss you,' she said softly.

'Well hey I was only gone a few minutes,' Lorne carolled from the doorway, 'He shuffled in and looked guilty, adjusting his collar and tweaking at his hair surreptitiously, 'It was just a few minutes right?'

'I… I guess, I lost track of time,' Fred shut the book quickly and slipped it to the floor while Lorne was busy preening himself in her mirror. 'She's been fine though; just sleeping… oh I forgot… you can sense that anyway.'

'That doesn't mean I don't need my little Fredikins to keep an eye out for my precious little dumpling pie…' he leaned over the baby and his voice became doubly affectionate. 'Have I told you how much I love being a dad?' he asked Fred with a wide smile, 'At last I have someone to call cupcake and sugarbuns and strudelcheeks and she never complains!' His thumb touched Aviline's cheek gently and he opened his mind to read the aura around her. His smile became gentle as he watched the colours move with her dreams. Content that she was happy he adjusted her blanket and turned to Fred, his psychic radar still switched firmly to 'on.'

'I wish you'd talk to me sweetie,' he said, 'You know you can't fool lil' old empathic moi.'

Fred moved to her dressing table where she made a fuss of pinning up her long dark hair, 'You know I'm just readjusting Lorne, that's all.'

He looked at her heavily from his perch on the bed and tried to brush aside the defensive waves in her aura. 'Well maybe I could help?' eh suggested, 'Helping people adjust is a thing I do, sing me a little song and…'

'No,' Fred turned sharply, 'No songs. I'm dealing with it OK. It's fine.'

Lorne flinched at her tone. 'OK,' he said softly, OK… I just didn't want to you to feel like we're not with you on this,' he got up and headed for the door again, sensing he was needed in the bar and sensing that he wasn't wanted upstairs, 'You're not alone honey, just remember that.' The door clicked shut after him and Fred's body language slumped.

'I'm not alone,' she said, pulling the volume back towards her and opening it on the dresser. The image on the page reflected in the dresser glass and above it Fred's pale features as she 

read. If she could make this work, she was sure she could start to make this work. 'I'm not alone,' she said with more conviction, 'I still have you.'

-- --

The hospital bay was dark, a single light above the bed and the flash of monitors to left and right. Green lines and red, charting each breath and each heartbeat, seemingly dozens of lines attached, feeding her body and draining it at the same time, a mask over her face, her features obscured by plastic and tape. The room was hot and a simple sheet was draped over her for modestly; silence competed with beeps and whirrs as she fought hopelessly against the falling numbers and alarm bells.

At the end of the bed the air shimmered briefly and a figure appeared, bright at first and then fading as if out of politeness in the dim light of intensive care. Willow glided to the edge of the bed and looked down at Lucy.

'Not yet,' she said and reached out so that her hand skimmed the sheet and fell through it to the girl's heart, to the deep alien wound that thing had given her, the wound that would slowly drain any ordinary girl of life in hours. 'He picked the wrong victim this time, you'll make it…. You're one of mine,' Willow said softly, her figure glowed whitely and the power coursed into the girl from the Other Side.

Lucy was a Potential.

Now she was a Slayer.

-- --

Caritas Reborn. Lorne stepped down into the club with a spring in his step although his exchange with Fred still nagged at the back of his mind. There was so much to do however and perhaps she really did just need time. He took the last couple of steps with a skip and wended his way through his patrons. Motley looking crew as usual; he side stepped the wandering hands of a large blue Bugurder demon and slipped behind the bar.

They had returned to the centre of LA with several dozen restored Lost Ones months before, aware that there was work to be done, aware that the whole process of battling evil didn't just end because one big bad had gone away. Despite his jovial protests Lorne knew he belonged here. In the city. There was no escaping it now, if he could read his own destiny when he sang he would see it, he was part of the bigger picture, Willow had said as much and he didn't have a choice, but if he did have to stay and fight the bad guys he was going to do it in style. He had insisted on the club, a territory he knew well, a continuous source of informants and underworld rumblings, and more importantly a continuous source of sea breeze to see him through it.

He flipped the vodka upside down and poured a generous measure into the mixer while trying to block out the warblings of the latest karaoke demon. He really didn't want to see what he was getting up to next Saturday night with his demon girl. Instead he plonked in some ice and hummed the tune to himself, his eyes flickering back and forth over the crowd seated at 

tables and around the stage. Ok he had exaggerated, business was OK, but there was a definite sense of something in the atmosphere tonight.

The Bugurder belched happily across the bar at him and winked. Lorne grimaced. That hadn't been quite what he had meant.

'Yak's urine,' the Bugurder commanded lasciviously. Lorne smiled lopsidedly and turned to the racks of drinks behind him letting the smile drop off his face rapidly. He watched in the mirror as the demon ran his eyes up and down Lorne's back and rested them on his behind. He steeled himself to tell the great hulking beast off with a suitably curt put down but when he turned back he saw something which made him jump. The Yak's urine sloshed out of the glass and down his mandarin jacket.

'Eww…' he managed, grabbing a towel and wiping it down best he could.

'Sorry mate, didn't mean to surprise you,' Spike said apologetically, his cocky manner somewhat dulled. Lorne eyed him with narrowed lids.

'What are you doing here?' he shoved the urine at the Bugurder and waved him away.

'I know I'm not the most popular person around here,' Spike said, 'And I understand that, I'm even less popular with myself…'

'My heart bleeds,' Lorne said sarcastically, 'You killed like… nearly all of us! You left Willow under a pile of rubble and sided with my evil god demon nemesis in a bid to destroy us…'

'Yeah and I…'

'…and you unleashed a bunch of hungry zombies on us when we were in a church!'

'I'm sorry about that… but…'

'I died!' Lorne concluded with raised eyebrows, 'I died, I nearly lost my girl and my baby, not to mention you could have been instrumental in unleashing the whole damned apocalypse on the world…'

'Alright!' Spike cried, 'Alright I get it! He took my soul! He turned me into an evil sod filled with Machiavellian desires of power and bloodlust! I did bad! So shoot me! I'm sorry!'

There was silence in the bar. Lorne looked from Spike to the clientele with embarrassment.

'Heh…' he laughed uncomfortably, 'Just a little joke between old friends…' he turned to Spike and growled, 'And now to top it off you're making a scene in my bar… what do you want Spike?'

'I need your help,' he said quietly. Lorne looked at him incredulously. 'Believe it or not I'm trying to get back on the straight and narrow now and I've been hunting this thing for days trying to figure out what the hell's going on…'

'What thing?'

'You not heard? There's a thing attacking young girls, teenagers, kids… it gets into their houses without a struggle and the next thing we know they're dead. Cops are all over it but getting nowhere… I dodged them on the way over here…'

'Vampire?'

'No. Definitely not.'

'Demon?'

'No. It doesn't smell demon.'

Lorne sighed, 'What then?'

'Shapeshifter I think, it's not strictly demon, but it's not human either.'

'Hybrid?'

'No.'

'Spike this isn't very useful. What is a Shapeshifter? And why is there one in LA and what does it want with girls?'

'One: it's crossed a dimension to be here, it's an indigenous being from an alternative world that's not strictly demon see, but not supposed to be here either…'

Lorne raised his eyebrows, 'Spike…' he said with admiration, 'I never knew you could pronounce long words,'

Spike smiled sardonically at him and resumed where he had left off, 'Two: it's probably in LA because we're all post apocalyptic and busy cleaning up that mess so its not as likely to get noticed in amongst all the rest of the murders and demon activities. And Three... I don't know why it wants girls… same reason most of us do I guess… they taste better…' Lorne looked at him witheringly, 'You got any otter?' Spike added peering behind him brightly to the row of bottles.

'And you want my help because,' Lorne said ignoring his request.

'I can't track this thing on my own. It doesn't leave a scent; it can take any form it likes…'

'So how can I find it?' Lorne was becoming irritated with Spike and started to wipe down the bar with gusto.

'Because you can see it.'

'What?'

'Look I stumbled across this thing tonight sticking a skewer thing in some poor kid right there in her own house, managed to persuade her to invite me in but not before he'd got to her. I saw him change, he was pretending to be her dad and then woosh he goes all shapeshifter on my ass and I see his true form. But I couldn't stop him, these guys are fast and powerful and he was off again like a shot. He'll already be disguised as something else; I haven't a hope of stumbling across him again. But you do…'

'I don't get it.'

'Shapeshifters leave a trail. Not a smell or a goo or anything, but a trail made up of their essence.'

Lorne leaned heavily on the bar and allowed the truth to dawn. His expression became serious and not a little uncomfortable. 'You want me to track his aura?'

'Yes! Give the man a banana!' Spike flung his hands up in rapture.

'Umm…'

'We tracking something?' Sasha came around the bar, cold night air still clinging to her clothes. She tucked stray wisps of hair behind her ears.

'Shapeshifter,' Spike said. Sasha opened her mouth to question him.

'Don't ask it'll take a while,' Lorne said, 'They can only be tracked by aura.'

'Well hey check you out,' Sasha said playfully, 'That's just up your street.'

'Anyone else remembering that I failed this when I was at school in Pylea… the whole tracking and hunting thing..? I sucked.'

'Well you're all we've got at the moment. You just need to find it I'll do the rest.' Spike said sallowly.

'We'll do the rest,' Sasha corrected, 'It'll take more than one of us I reckon.' Spike held her eye for a second before it became too uncomfortable. Damn slayers, always with the forgiving and moving on for the mission. He spun off the bar stool with a sharp 'Come on then,' and led the way from the club.

-- --

It was more painful than she remembered it being but she was determined to stick it through. The shadow paths whirled noiselessly around her as she moved, relying on instinct to guide her. Greys and whites, colourless winds and undefined margins propelled her backward with each forward step. She struggled to inhale against the force of it.

'Are you here?' Fred called, 'can you hear me?'

The paths contracted around her, pressing down on her living breathing flesh in anger at her presence.

_You do not belong,_ _demon or dead walk here alone_, they told her and hurled her back across the dimension.

Fred landed with a crash in her room, the gateway snapping shut within the pentagram she had raised. For a second she knelt on all fours just trying to catch her breath before slumping back against the bed and reaching again for the heavy magical volume.

'There has to be a way,' she muttered, the back of her hand wiping at the blood which trickled from her nose, 'There has to be a way to find you.' She winced and held her blood stained hand to her chest as she turned the pages. The pain of emptiness was far worse than that she felt on the paths.

-- --

The house was still crawling with cops by the time they arrived and Spike, Lorne and Sasha were forced to wait in the shadows across the street. Yards of tape secured the front lawn and officials could be seen ducking under or over it to reach the scene of the crime.

'I'm assuming for this to work you need to be in there,' Spike said impatiently.

Lorne shot him and irritated look. 'Gold star to Einstein here,' he quipped, 'Yes I need to be in there, yes I need to sense the thing's aura where it attacked, but no I can't just wander in because.. hello… cops.. and hello,' he gestured to his face… green!'

'Never had this problem with Angel,' Spike muttered, 'He could charm his way in anywhere with one flutter of his eyelashes,' he sparked up a cigarette and blew smoke petulantly upwards.

Lorne looked at him a moment longer and then went back to peering at the house.

'You know there is a way for you to get in there,' Sasha said quietly, 'I wouldn't suggest it but this thing is killing girls every night…'

'Go on,' Lorne said.

'Use the glamour.'

There was an uncomfortable silence. 'No,' Lorne said softly a trace of hurt in his voice. 'I can't believe you'd even… no.' Spike looked between the couple.

'Well I think it's a bloody brilliant idea, you used it before why not now? Make yourself look human, slip inside, suss out the…'

'I said no,' Lorne said more firmly. 'Don't you guys remember what happened last time? Demon hell god thing stole it and tried to take over the world using my alternative human face?'

More uncomfortable silence.

'So we just stand here then,' Spike said, 'And hope the Shapeshifter moseys on by for a quick skeg at the damage?'

Lorne looked at the ground, hands firmly in pockets and said nothing.

'Great,' Spike commented.

An unmarked car slipped by them and pulled up by the house. It was immediately descended upon by a group of baffled cops. To Lorne's side he could sense Sasha's impatience and uncertainty. She and Spike had a point; girls were dying and he, Lorne, had a means of tracking this creature which only an empath could do. The cops were getting nowhere; Spike had the power but not the ability. He shuffled in the dark and wished his overcoat would swallow him up.

He'd sworn never to use that face again, those magics had brought him and the world nothing but trouble. And now just as the damage the Old One had inflicted on his life was subsiding, just as he got his girl and his baby and his club back together it seemed the only way forward was to put on that face again. In his mind he saw the dark reflection in his mirror back in Chicago, where every night he would wear that disguise and hate it. He didn't want to be hiding again. But most of all he didn't want to see that expression in Sasha's eyes, the one she always got when he appeared before her human, the one that hurt him more than anything.

Lost in thought it took a moment for him to register that Spike was listening intently to the buzz of radios across the road.

'What are you getting?' Sasha asked quietly.

'There's been another,' Spike growled back, 'Other side of town, they're already on it but he's escaped already. That's two in one night…'

'He's getting confident,' Sasha said. They both turned and looked at the figure hunched between them, his head bowed and his hat hiding his features.

'Lorne?' Spike said urgently.

Lorne said nothing but moved to cross the street, the low hum of an incantation in his throat anticipating the shimmer of magics which cascaded from his shoulders and over his body. In a moment they saw his back straighten and he removed his hat, slinging it casually across his pale human fingertips as he strode towards the house. Only Sasha saw the anxiety in his aura and she quickly closed her mind to it with a wince.

'Got to be done,' Spike said by way of comfort.

'Part of the Mission,' she said mechanically.

-- --

The back of the house was considerably less well guarded than the front and it was with a flick of his open wallet that Lorne strode purposefully through the smattering of cops and in through the kitchen door. The attack had taken place in the hallway, Spike had informed him, and through the doors he could see the movement of forensics and investigators. He lingered a while in the kitchen, taking in the remnant vibes of the family that had lived here. He moved his hands over the work surfaces, gripped the handles of the discarded forks and knives in the sink, felt the life that ahd been. Two of them, a man and a girl, and the fainter traces of a woman, a mother who had left.

The room hummed with sadness and bravery. He completed a circuit of the kitchen and moved on, slipping into the living room. A white suited forensics officer brushed past him with an evidence bag and left him alone. Lorne moved immediately to the chair the girl had occupied before the attack, the tub of ice cream, now melted, still sat on the table on the right, the TV remote discarded on the floor and her shoes scattered carelessly on the rug. There was a sense of excitement and anticipation; Lorne looked at the cordless, still on but dead. His eyes flicked up to where the phone base was attached to the wall, he noted that it had been pulled.

Avoiding his own reflection in the mirror above the desk he reached out and touched the cord with the tips of his fingers, taking a deep and calming breath before contact, before…

Lorne grasped at the desk to steady himself as the image rushed to him. The shapeshifter's trace was powerful and vivid and a dozen images of its carnage rushed at him from his tentative contact with the phone cord. He felt his breath come in sharp pangs and forced his mind to focus down onto that trace. After a few seconds he stumbled back into the room, as silent and empty as it had been before but for the glimmer of the creature's aura now picked out on each surface he had touched. Lorne cast his eyes around the room, each footprint highlighted to his psychic ability. Yes he had unplugged the cord, he had moved to the hall… Lorne followed in a half daze, the glimmer of the traces guiding him out. Where he had attacked the aura pooled in puddles of red and yellows, he must have shifted form just as Spike described and with it his essence was revealed.

Lorne's chest felt tight from the intensity of it and he felt perspiration prickle his skin. A wave of nausea and weakness coursed over him and he leaned for a minute against the hall table as his breath came in shuddering gasps.

'Nearly done,' he said to himself. Slowly he raised himself up as fresh voices drifted from the back of the house. Time to get out of here and follow that trace. Time to get back to the others and ditch this glamour and pray he never had to use it again. Lorne straightened and wended his way back through the living room, the room swirling around him in unsteady waves. He stopped again forced to grip the desk and drawing back when he felt the shapeshifter there. His peripheral vision was growing dark.

'Ok, don't go passing out at the crime scene,' he muttered, loosening his collar as the room grew hotter and more unbearable.

'Didn't think I'd see you here,' a familiar voice said behind him, 'Thought I told you to lie low… well I guess there's no harm in having a little look but just be careful, I know our guys are covering this now but you can't afford to be wandering around yet….' the figure moved 

in the mirror behind him, blurred and indistinct but memorable. It looked around the room at the aftermath of the girl's attack and clicked its tongue. Lorne blinked hard trying to clear his vision; finally he met the man's eyes in the glass and saw the smile which welcomed him.

'You're still not 100 my friend,' Lindsay said, 'don't go overdoing it.'

The sight of him shot like a bullet to his chest. Lorne lost his breath for a second; saw the smile broaden on Lindsay's face. The lawyer stepped forward and patted him companionably on the back before turning again to the crime scene. 'When you're done here best sneak out the back,' he whispered conspiratorially over his shoulder, 'I'll meet you at HQ later and let you know if we found this guy…' he straightened and remarked thoughtfully, 'I really wish he'd stop running off, I'd like to shake his hand... or whatever body part he's choosing to form at the time… hand would be best,' he laughed at his own joke. And he sauntered from the room, papers in hand, as much the lawyer as he had ever been, as alive as he had ever been.

Lorne stumbled from the room and careered out of the kitchen, he saw nothing but Lindsay's face before him. As he staggered across the garden he almost tangled in the police lines and it was with relief that he felt Spike's hands close over his arms and drag him to the safety of the shadows where Sasha waited. Lorne dropped to his knees and with a heaving gasp vomited heavily onto the grass. His heart hammered painfully and as the others watched his glamour fell away to reveal his features contorted with fear. Sasha bent to touch him and he instinctively pulled away, his body shaking.

'What in the name of…?' Spike began, looking back at the house, 'What happened in there?'

'Did you sense it?' Sasha asked assuming the creature's aura had had some effect on Lorne.

He managed to nod but his breathing wouldn't slow, all he could feel were Lindsay's eyes in him in the mirror. The familiarity he had shown and the expectation that he would meet later. Lorne fought with the realisation which threatened to spill over and shatter his world. He looked own at his hands where the last of his human glamour was fading and made a high anguished noise, he covered his face with his palms and tried to hold back the sob which threatened to rise in his chest.

'Should never have…' he started… 'Knew this would happen…'

'Lorne what the bloody hell are you on about, can you track this thing or not or do we have to wait for another girl to die?' Spike snapped. Sasha looked at him harshly.

'Shut up Spike there's something wrong.'

The girl. He had sensed the girl in the house. He bravery and her unhappiness and her fear at the attack. If he could focus on the girl. If he could stop this thing. Lorne's breathing slowed again and his shaking subsided. He allowed Sasha to cover his hand with hers and tried to ignore the look of vivid concern in her eyes.

'I'm OK…' he said quietly, 'It was just a little... it was a little intense…' he looked back at her more steadily and buried the truth inside. Sasha reached out and drew him up to stand by her. He avoided Spike's eyes as he focused on the traces of the shapeshifter's essence and 

began to make his way down the road. With each stride the same two thoughts spun in a dance he had tried hard to forget the steps to.

Lindsay was back. Was Novica?

-- --

_Why do you trouble us once more?_ The paths a round Fred delayed her expulsion to question her motive. She held the talisman aloft to abate their anger.

'I need to cross to the Deeper Well, you allowed me to travel here before.'

_You were accompanied by those blessed by the powers. The Slayer, the Old One, alone you may not cross these barriers._

Fred steadied herself again the growing force of the winds and tried again.

'I must reach the Deeper Well and cross to the World Within. I must reach the Keeper.'

_She is lost to you human. She is sealed and cannot rise. It was her sacrifice to your kind. Would you undo that sacrifice?_

'No, I just…'

The wind swirled around her and she felt a dozen fingers touch her skin. Her arm trembled holding the talisman and she dropped it to one side. Deep down she know Illyria was buried and could not rise. The finger-like breeze pushed through her hair and skin; she felt it penetrate at her mouth and nose and heard its breath like a sigh in her ears.

_She has damaged you human, you lie empty._

'Yes!' he voice was bright with thankfulness that the Paths had seen her problem.

_Her return would not fulfil you. You are mistaken in your request. We cannot send you to the Deeper Well and nor if you travel on foot will you find yourself admitted to its secrets. This phase is over. She is lost to you._

The wind drew back as though finished with her and then in a moment it reached forward again, sensing her anguish. Fred swayed fragilely in the desolate paths. She felt the breeze at her face again.

_You have indeed lost much, and given much for the sake of world. _ The wind mused. _ There is perhaps yet something which can be done… to heal you._

Around her the paths shifted from grey, to black, to brilliant light. A new path stretched out before her.

_Yours is a human need. We sense it. If we are correct, if it is for you, it will be at the end of this path. _ The winds told her, _Follow._

-- --

Lorne moved ahead of them, head down, hat pulled firmly over his horns, hands deep in the pockets of his trench coat. Never one to keep up a pace he was striding ahead of them now, his eyes flickering across the sidewalk, over the road, steering him in the direction on the shapeshifter's essence. Spike and Sasha had to concentrate to keep up, trotting in bursts between fast paced walking, exchanging glances and shrugs when they could; Lorne hadn't said a word since they had begun trailing the creature.

The slow whirl of blue-red lights and silent sirens highlighted the shape-shifters second victim of the night. Lorne glanced up at the house with its police cars and tape and walked straight past into the darkness behind it. He could already see the attack in his mind, the sudden slice of the skewer through the child's heart, a girl of around nine. He didn't need to see the evidence or revisit the scene. The essence was fresh and strong and the thing was closer. He plunged into the shadows motioning Spike to follow.

'Um… does anyone know how we kill this thing?' Sasha volunteered.

Spike hopped the fence Lorne had just taken and waited for her to do the same.

'I find hitting it with heavy objects is a failsafe place to start,' he said.

-- --

In the intensive care wing of the hospital the monitors flashed the news that Lucy was waking. Her pulse climbed and her blood pressure steadied. She fought against the tubes that filled her mouth and forced air deep into her lungs. Her wounds were healing with the rapid regenerative power she took from her slayer heritage. But she woke to a thankless world. A private world governed by the loss of her father, her mother miles away and untraceable; a world in which a slayer fought nightly, ruled by pain and violence and death. But a world in which she lived none the less.

She opened her eyes suddenly and her fingertips gripped the sheets as the image of the shapeshifter flashed fiercely into her vision. The shapeshifter and its weakness. She coughed fiercely as she wrenched the tubes from her throat, the insistent voice of the Wicca in her mind.

_Go!_

-- --

The new Wolfram and Hart building was very much like the old. Which was no great surprise seeing as it had been magically restored in a period of hours. Rebuild wasn't a problem to the oldest company in the world.

Lindsay MacDonald crossed the lobby with a click of heels on marble floor and ascended the elevator to his apartment. So much safer to live in the building this time, less likely to be shot by green lackeys. The doors opened with a whoosh and he crossed the sumptuous grey carpet 

to his desk, grasping a decanter en route and pouring himself a measure of whiskey. These were the things he had missed while dead; good drink and plush carpets underfoot. His brief sojourn in the hell dimension had taught him to respect the finer things in life. Like a twenty year old malt. Like the Senior Partners. He knew they wouldn't leave him there long. Maybe a few weeks to teach him a lesson for being wobbly on the good vs. evil thing, but he was Wolfram and Hart through and through lets face it, he had a contract to prove it. His soul was theirs.

And life here wasn't so bad. Even if wasn't technically life. More of a reprieve from death. It was close enough. He was damn near indestructible, as long as he kept the company on side.

He turned to scatter the Shapeshifter's papers on his desk and noticed the shape on the couch.

'How did you do that?' he asked.

Novica looked up from his edition of FHM. 'Do what?'

'Get back before me?'

The former god's big brown eyes looked at him blankly. 'I haven't moved all night.'

'You were at Erskine Road about twenty minutes ago,' Lindsay said, 'have you been teleporting again? I warned you, you don't have the resources to be doing that now, you've got a human body Novica you're gonna break it before we have time to fix you up.'

'I haven't been teleporting,' Novica said curtly, the tone of a petulant child; he dropped his eyes to his magazine again and crossed his legs on the table in front of him. 'I've been here all night... Waiting for you,' he emphasised the last word.

Lindsay looked at him curiously, he guessed he could check the security tapes but something in him told him he would find Novica stretched on his couch twenty minutes ago, an hour ago. He leaned against his desk and folded his arms, never taking his eyes off his guest.

Lorne. He should have known he would stick around in LA. He should have guessed he'd be interfering with this sort of game. But secretly he was glad he hadn't realised at the house. Secretly he was glad he could sit in the safety and power of his office and feel a little shaken here… and not have to face the creature that shot him in his true form. Lindsay closed his eyes briefly and saw again the image of Lorne's face, dark with menace in the seconds before he fired the gun. His voice over and over.

_I've heard you sing._

Lindsay looked back at Novica, at the man he had seen earlier that night, and forced his heart back to a slower pace. He lit his face with a casual expression of interest and unconcern.

'I saw you tonight, well what looked like you, at the house…'

Novica looked up sharply. 'Well it wasn't me. Was it the shapeshifter?'

'No… I don't think it was… what reason would he have to hang around? Besides there was another attack across town while I was investigating this one, he was long gone. No this was someone else… the double of you…'

Novica's face darkened. 'I didn't think he would dare…'

'Hero's gotta do what a hero's gotta do…' Lindsay said in singsong, 'Just like Angel,' he laughed ironically. 'I think we have ourselves an interesting situation. You don't like him… I don't like him… we both want revenge and to top it all he's working for the good guys again which gives us a legitimate reason to go after him if anyone upstairs asks… not that we need legitimate really but its nice to have the paperwork.'

'This could be a lot of fun,' Novica said. 'Where do we start?'

Lindsay considered with bitterness, 'I want to do this with style... I'm betting he's freaking out as we speak. Let's just let him simmer a while… and then hit him where it hurts the most…'

Novica smiled a broad white smile, 'I'll drink to that.'

-- --

Sasha was through the door and tussling with the thing before Spike had had a chance to realise he couldn't enter. He stood roaring at the invisible barrier which shielded the latest victim's house from vampires. He beat on it ineffectually and watched as the shapeshifter's amorphous form enveloped the slayer like a thick blanket, pining her arms to her side. The girl he had attacked dropped to the floor and began to crawl to the doorway.

'Let me in!' Spike called to her, his game face in place. The girl looked up wide eyed and horrified. 'Please!' he tried again, 'Oh bloody hell why does this always happen? Lorne for god's sake!' he turned to where Lorne stood motionless by the door, he didn't even watched Sasha's struggles and made no move to get the girl out of harms way. His face looked distracted and weary. 'Lorne!' he looked up at Spike's energetic protest, gesticulating at the girl, 'get her out!'

With sudden realisation Lorne stepped forward and grasped the girl, pulling her out into the night and freeing her when she began to struggle against him. She looked up into his face with terror and backed away into the vegetation of her garden, her eyes never leaving his.

'What the hell are you people?' she sobbed, before fleeing down the street to get help. Sasha's cries were muffled within the house by the shapeshifter; helpless Spike beat the wall with one fist and paced frantically while Lorne gazed after the girl, the image of Lindsay's smile still vivid before him. He was dimly aware of the victim dodging a figure as it pelted towards the house, another girl dressed simply in jeans and vest top, her feet still bare, hurtling towards them.

She barely glanced at Lorne as she hurled herself through the door way and aimed a heavy kick at the shapeshifter. It undulated and withdrew, reforming and protecting itself so that her kick missed entirely. But it had the effect of releasing Sasha who sprang back and regained her position.

'The skewer!' Lucy called and Sasha instantly understood. With the thing occupied with one slayer the elder dived for the heart of the shapeshifter, reaching and grasping for the skewer which emerged from it in a jagged point. She bit back a scream as she pulled down hard and heard it snap, its edges searing deep cuts into her palms and the blood pouring freely over her wrists. In a moment the thing reeled back, its form changing and altering through its former disguises, Lucy saw image after image, now a middle aged woman, now a young man of sixteen, now her father. She looked away sharply and at the same moment the high call of death filled the house. The shapeshifter vanished.

Sasha tuned to find Lorne and he was gone.

-- --

Fred stepped down from the shadow paths, blinking hard against the light and shielding her eyes. Suddenly it dimmed around her and she recognised the little room which had been hers before Illyria. Rich terracottas and reds, her bookcase and dresser, her favourite ornaments, it even smelled the same. She crossed to the bed and curled on the coverlets, he eyes taking in each detail. It was so still, a frozen moment. Why had she been sent here? And where was here? She knew full well her room no longer existed, destroyed with everything else by the evil unleashed on LA. Somewhere it lay buried in darkness, her things packed in storage and crushed under the belly of Wolfram and Hart.

She looked down at her hands with dry eyes. It was here Illyria had taken her. She should feel pain, she should remember the fear and the desperation to cling to life but all she felt was emptiness and cold and longing. Longing to be whole again. Whole Fred, Whole Illyria. Someone whole. This room held no answers; the paths had played with her and sent her off course. She had to return to the Deeper Well.

'I have to go back…' she said to herself.

Movement caught her eye and she was suddenly afraid to raise her face to him, he was not what she was seeking, she sought another and yet they had sent here…

'Oh Fred, please, why can't you stay….?'

-- --

'Don't want to see your kind on the streets,' the cop told him as he made his way to Caritas, 'New curfew in place as part of the clean up, you lot stick to the sewers or indoors you hear? You're lucky we let you have that…' he stopped offended at the demon's lack of care, he simply brushed past him and went on his way oblivious. Well if he saw him again in a hurry he'd make him sorry.

Lorne moved blindly through the club and waved away the bartender who moved to speak to him. He dumped his hat and coat behind the bar and began to pour himself a stiff drink. He had to think. He'd pour this and move on upstairs. He'd check on Aviline. He'd closet himself away and try to piece together the events of this evening… heck of all of it. Just as soon as he had this drink. He downed it in one gulp and mixed another, relenting and simply 

pouring the vodka straight into the glass. He passed his hand over his forehead and winced, a small noise of pain in his throat. Pain and fear. If he could just shut himself away from the world, if he could just hide like he used to, like he did before any of this, when he was a simple barkeep in a run down joint in Chicago. Before Sasha came, when he knew Lindsay to be dead and gone, before any of this trouble consumed him. He couldn't take any more; he couldn't have it start over.

He downed his next shot and longed to be drunk or numb. He longed for sleep just to block out those images. Images spiralling now in his mind, some damned demon up on the stage crooning away. Not now not now, he didn't want to hear, he didn't want to see, he just wanted this all to stop. He slammed the shot glass down on the counter and clamped his hands over his ears but the tune droned on and he felt himself compelled to turn around. It was like something was moving him without his permission. And the images came more vividly.

_His dark reflection in the glass of his dresser, his human face. And as he watched it rose and left him there behind the mirror. His human self was on the other side, the real side, the side where Sasha lay sleeping in their bed and where their baby dozed contentedly in her crib. And as the vision expanded he felt himself beat against the glass, trying to wake her into realising but instead she simply turned in her sleep and opened her arms to the man who joined her there, laid her head against his human chest and felt the throb of his voice there as he spoke. _

_Novica looked up with those bright human eyes and smiled at his reflection as Lorne felt himself dragged deeper into the mirror world, hidden from view, replaced and lost._

His scream began in his mind and spilled over into the reality of the bar where a dozen patrons turned to stare. A dozen more unknowns emerged from the shadows of the club and seized him, whispering lowly not to struggle, not to fight, keep quiet or they'll pay, his family will pay. And before him Lindsay stepped down from the stage, the microphone dangling from one hand, approaching Lorne with that welcoming smile, the last notes of his song still echoing in Lorne's psyche.

With the force of his captors Lorne was pulled into the darkness of the alley where Lindsay's transport waited. Overwhelmed with fear and confusion he struggled only briefly as he was bundled into the back of the long dark vehicle and the doors slammed in his face. His hands were bound roughly and he cursed at his imprisonment.

'They'll come for me,' he said sharply, 'They'll come for me and it'll be you guys who pay, not them…' but the burly man who held him laughed hard in his face, hauling him to the window and forcing him to look at the scene outside.

'I don't think so somehow…' he said darkly, 'Right now we've got someone working a memory mojo on your patrons; as far as they are concerned nothing unusual has happened here tonight. Plus with the new rules about demons out and about at night which we so kindly suggested to the police… well no-one will wonder why you're using a glamour… Big mistake you made, pissing off Wolfram and Hart… and you got away with it for a long time. That kinda makes it more satisfying for us though… you built up your little club, your little life, got yourself a cutesy little freak baby…' his gruff tones mocked Lorne mercilessly, 'Now its over, Lorne, now he gets everything, the perfect set up to rebuild his strength.'

He pressed Lorne harder against the glass and made him watch. In the gloom of the alley Lindsay was talking to a figure. The same one Lorne had seen in his vision. The light tones of Novica's voice drifted through the night towards them like music. He was laughing and relaxed, filled with fresh confidence, wearing a sharp suit that could easily have been Lorne's. With a final exchange he made for the club with an easy flowing gait pausing only to turn to the van and wave bye-bye.

The engine started and Lorne watched through the window as he was driven from his life.


	10. Chapter 10 : The Thing Beneath

_Movement caught her eye and she was suddenly afraid to raise her face to him, he was not what she was seeking, she sought another and yet they had sent her here…_

'_Oh Fred, please, why can't you stay….?'_

_-- --_

_The light tones of Novica's voice drifted through the night towards them like music. With a final exchange he made for the club with an easy flowing gait pausing only to turn to the van and wave bye-bye._

_The engine started and Lorne watched through the window as he was driven from his life._

Cordelia paced the ethereal floor and pushed her hands through her hair impatiently. In the glass the blurred figure of Lorne sat hunched and motionless in a bare dark room. She paused to glance at him and then flicked her eyes away returning to her harassed pacing.

Willow looked up at her resignedly.

'Give him a chance Cordy.'

'He's had a chance! He's had ages! Why hasn't he done the thing!'

'He doesn't know he can yet. It'll come to him when the time is right.'

'Well you know what?' Cordy widened her eyes, 'this would be a great time. Ya… around now would be peachy.'

'Just let him adjust to his mojo Cordy, you had to adjust to yours.'

'At least I noticed mine!'

'Well you had the migraines to give you a head's up. Lorne's not gonna notice this until someone who's walking their final path to the Other World can…' Willow stopped suddenly and passed a hand over the glass, changing the view. 'Oh,' she said softly.

Cordy was at her side squinting into the mirror. Lorne's club glowed dimly before them, clientele cluttering tables and clustering round the bar. The two women were both drawn to the figure moving behind it, smiling pleasantly, touching the barman lightly on the shoulder. A shimmer of magic passed through him, altering perception, a spell of lies and the barman looked up at his boss and smiled. Novica didn't linger long, he flashed a brilliant smile in return and disappeared in the back.

The tension in Willow's face was noticeable only by the slight clench of her jaw. Beside her Cordelia bit her lip softly. They watched as the Old One made his way through the rooms of Lorne's apartment to where Aviline lay sleeping.

'It's OK,' Cordy said suddenly, 'He can't do anything, Fred's there.' She turned to look at the witch beside her. Willow kept her eyes on the glass.

'No she's not,' she said softly. 'She's somewhere very different.' Cordelia stared at her incomprehensively for a second before looking back to the glass. Novica's lean figure was gliding contentedly around Lorne's bedroom, his fingertips taking in the feel of each surface and each contour. His eyes caught his reflection in the mirror and he chuckled lightly. Finally he made the circuit and left again, taking the hallway to Fred's room, and to Aviline.

'This isn't what's supposed to happen,' Willow said and the image in the glass shifted to another scene. When she spoke again it was with an unnerving flicker of panic and pleading; a whispered instruction to the demon who would not hear her. 'Come on Lorne.'

-- --

Fred snapped her eyes back from him and stared at the coverlets. The illusion of her old room seemed more reliably solid than his face. She felt the thickness of the cloth under her fingertips and concentrated hard on the backs of her hands.

'I can't stay, this isn't real,' she said, half to herself, her voice an eerie and emotionless echo of Illyria's.

'But it could be,' his light voice, always prone to delicacy, drifted over her. 'It's been destined, we've been given a reprieve by the Powers That Be. We have to take it. It's a good thing, Fred. You always trusted me, yes? Trust me now.' She could feel the smile in his tone. She could picture the curve of his lips and blue of his eyes. _Don't look at him, it's a trick. They're trying to stop you from finding her._

'Fred?' he coaxed. She used to melt when she head him speak her name so softly. That time had been so brief cut short by Illyria's birth. And then… A whisper of memory tickled at her mind. Of kneeling over him, of watching him die. Not Fred's memory but hers. Illyria's. _Would you like me to lie to you now?_ The cool voice that had become Fred's that had always been Fred's. The jostling thoughts and memories caught her off guard now and she struggled.

Movement and he was crouched before her, a scene reminiscent of her own demise and still she couldn't look at him. A hardness had formed around her heart, a shadow of Illyria's being, and she fought to keep it there. She had been seeking the Old One and now his presence made her feel unsure. She tried to cling with her mind to her decision. Go back to the shadow paths and find Illyria. Only she could make everything complete again.

'Fred?' he said again. 'Why can't you stay with me?'

What was he asking? That she stayed here in this dream world? In this frozen day before her death? What was he? Surely he was just a ghost, an illusion at best. A cruel spell at worst conjured to taunt and hurt her. None of this was real; none of this was real except Illyria and the traces of her being that sat in hard clusters within. She had to get to Illyria, the paths couldn't keep denying her access if she tried hard enough… in a swift movement Fred drew herself away from her old bed and stumbled towards the door. God only knew what was lying on the other side. Both hands grasped the handle and she tried to make it turn. Half her mind was on continuing her journey and half on avoiding his face. She feared him. But she feared what she felt inside more.

The door wouldn't give, something held it fast and a curious sensation pulsed at the base of her brain. Whatever held her here was not malicious. It wasn't evil. It was a force of good 

pushing her gently in the right direction. Doubt filled her; doubt and sudden knowledge. Illyria was not waiting. She was gone.

She tugged once more at the handle and then covered her face with her hands. Pale human hands with no lingering trace of blue. She felt her breath trapped behind her fingers, hot on her face and she squeezed her eyes shut. There had been so much pain that she had forgotten these feelings in her battle just to survive.

_There is perhaps yet something which can be done… to heal you. _The words from the shadow paths washed over her again. _Yours is a human need. If we are correct, if it is for you, it will be at the end of this path. _ _Follow._

Follow.

He was behind her now and she felt his hands rest lightly on her shoulders. Warmth slipped through her thin blouse.

_Yours is a human need…._

'Fred?' he was barely audible, barely touching her, just his presence, solid, reassuring, his scent light cologne, and the familiar tones of his accent.

_There is perhaps yet something which can be done…_

'No…' she murmured, 'No, no, no….' the first tears forming and trickling behind her hands. 'This can't be, this can't be…. They're playing with me; they just want me to hurt more… I can't hurt more… I can't, I can't… I'm empty, there's nothing left… a shell…it won't make it right; nothing can make it right… I want it to but it can't…'

'Fred…'

_There is something which can be done…_

'You're not real, you're not real…' her voice was high and broken.

… _to heal you._

'Fred…' he turned her in his arms and gently took the hands from her face, lifting her chin so that she faced him. Her eyes darted away and she tried to squeeze them shut again. But he touched her cheeks and soothed her forehead, his fingers tender. 'Fred…it's OK, please look at me, please look at me.'

'No…'

At her wits end she turned her head from side to side in his palms but there was no escape. No escape from him or from the deep desire in her to believe. Finally she gave way and her eyes flickered upwards just long enough to catch his. He held her there in his gaze and refused to let her go.

And then she knew. It was real. It _was_ real, and his name fell from her lips in a sob, loss, pain 

and joy mingling into one.

'Wesley, oh, Wesley!'

-- --

The heavy door slid open and a shaft of high powered light fell over the contents of the room, Lorne included. Wearily he raised his head and regarded the silhouette he knew was Lindsay's. He'd probably been alone in that room for less than an hour, but its oppressive darkness and silence made that hour stretch for days. He was dreading this moment and yet it offered respite from his own thoughts for a little while. The same images kept playing in his mind, Novica sauntering into the club, Lorne trapped behind the mirror, the visions from Lindsay's song which depicted the future. With every second that ticked by Lorne knew that future grew closer. Even now he guessed Sasha would be headed for Caritas to check he was OK after they dispatched the shapeshifter. And she'd come home and find Novica in her lover's place…

Lindsay's gaze was heavy on him now and he saw the figure step back and motion him to pass through the door. Lorne stood up, more automaton than himself, and followed Lindsay uncomplainingly, his heart heavy with a dread that came from outside Wolfram and Hart's resplendent premises.

She'd come home and find Novica in his place. But she'd realise. Right?

-- --

'Lorne?'

Novica looked up sharply. His mind had been lost in contemplating the sleeping baby before him. Time took some getting used to. Between being a demon god and spending a spell in a hell dimension or two his concept of minutes and hours was still a little shaky. Minutes could be years, years could feel like seconds to one who was eons old. He had to remind himself that for the meantime he was human and subject to their laws. He couldn't waste days staring into space. How long had he been standing looking at this little creature? The baby moved in her sleep and a shudder of revulsion passed through him.

'Lorne? You up here?' Sasha's voice on the stairs from the club below. She sounded concerned. A faint smile curved his lips. It was beginning then, this sham. The worried slayer rushes home to check on her demon boyfriend only to be confronted with her demon's boyfriend's arch nemesis! Couldn't let it get that far.

Novica roused himself, digging into the pocket of the Lorne style polyester suit he wore and calmly extracted a pouch of powers. The clientele downstairs had been seen to by the lawyers, and impressive mojo it was too, but he felt that Sasha would need a little more magic than that the walls of the club could supply. He slowly moved to the door and waited for her.

'In here,' he called, his voice musical, 'peach pie!' he added after a second's hesitation. He 

winced, but best to make it authentic.

'Lorne?' closer now. She rounded the corner and her eyes fell on his human face. A myriad of emotion flitted across her features. She was startled, a slight frown crossing her face and lingering lightly on her brow. She was relieved. She was immediately worried again. Something wasn't right. Novica moved quickly.

'Hey sweetpea,' he said, his arm moving to wrap itself around her shoulders. Sasha opened her mouth to question his appearance and he let the power fall across her in an arc, the shimmer landing briefly on her body before vanishing. She blinked and gazed at him, her lips slightly parted and then her frown disappeared. She laid one hand on his arm and said 'I'm so glad you're OK, you just kinda disappeared,' she looked hard at him and blinked again as though trying to clear her mind. Novica waited just a beat as the enchantment took, hoping her query would be dismissed by magic, but her question remained.

'How come you're all non-Lorne?' she asked. Novica laughed a carefree chuckle as he guided her into the room. A smile played around his lips, one of irony and secret knowledge. He could feel the magic penetrating her now, the tension easing from her muscles and her attention moving on. She became distracted and unperturbed she moved to the bed where Aviline lay sleeping. 'Is she OK?' she asked, 'Do you think she's been fed? And where's Fred, she said she'd be babysitting. I can't believe she'd just take off like that.'

'Well which should I answer first?' he smiled, his own body relaxing now as her urgency and concern dissipated. Sasha laughed apologetically, her back to him as she lifted the baby, unaware of him moving behind her, his pace slow and thoughtful and his large brown eyes taking in each detail of his new family. Was this really working? He couldn't quite believe his luck. He eased around her figure and sat lightly on the bed, looking up at her with a curious expression.

'It doesn't bother you, me looking this way?' he tested.

'It's a bit odd, you were so dead set against it earlier…'

'Oh yeah… with the shapeshifter. Well hey listen I did some thinking after I took off. Figured there's a heck of a lot of evil to contend with in LA these days without me coming over all diva about this glamour. It's a tool, OK, it's a powerful tool that I can use for good and I'm just getting all het up because it looks like _him_,' he decided to go straight to the heart of the matter, 'All that Novica stuff… that's in the past right?'

Sasha was fiddling with Aviline's clothing and replied distractedly, her voice clouded with magics, 'Yeah but I understand why it might still be hard for you, and I shouldn't have pushed you to wear the glamour tonight, its just there was no other way to get you into that house to track that thing. But I'm proud of you, you did the right thing,' she looked up and smiled at him, her eyes warm. Novica cocked his head and returned the expression, a sense of wonder and bubbling ill suppressed excitement in his chest. It was all falling into place. Better just make sure…

'Well you deserve an explanation,' he mused, 'just to set things straight from the beginning so to speak, so _remember this,_' he said meaningfully and saw something flash in her eyes as the spell he had cast triggered her memories. For the next few minutes she would absorb his 

every word without question and swear it as gospel. 'Thing is I've gotta face up to facts. This post apocalyptic LA doesn't like the green hue, there's a new curfew outside, you saw all the cops right?'

'Yes, they were in the alley,' again her voice was distant.

'Yes they were,' Novica agreed. 'And I have this powerful glamour I'm not using… and I can't risk…' he stopped suddenly struck by inspiration. He stood and took both of them in his arms, relishing the role he got to play. 'I can't risk anything happening to me when I have you and baby to care for,' his voice dripped with saccharin in what he thought was a perfectly wonderful impression of Lorne's sentiment. 'I can't risk leaving you alone. Slayer or not, you're my girl.' He smiled and she returned it, the glaze of the spell still in her eyes. 'So I figure I'd be better wearing the glamour for now… what do you think?'

'Ok, if you think it's safer, she accepted meekly.

'Good.' Job done. So easy. So very, very easy. A trill of excitement coursed through his veins. He'd been wary of Lindsay and of Wolfram and Hart but if this was how straightforward life could be with a law firm in tow then he heartily approved. Their support was useful. In this neat little set up he could become strong again. Novica looked down at Aviline nestled between his human chest and hers, and at Sasha, vulnerable and unaware beside him. His ancient mind began remembering prophecies and riddles. Toby Wyatt might have been the object of his prophecy but there was still power in this baby's soul. As yet he was unable to drink from these beings but he'd find a way. Vulnerable, both of them, toys to be played with and to keep him amused while he bided his time. Soft, vulnerable toys.

She was looking at him, he could feel it, drinking in his features. 'You know what?' Sasha was saying dreamily, her dim eyes lingering in his before dropping away shyly. 'You suit the glamour, I know I shouldn't say it but…'

'You always kind of liked this human look?' he replied, the magic power of suggestion still with him. He ran his hands moving through her hair, down her back, twisting and curling strands delicately, but what she said surprised him. What she said seemed to come from somewhere deep and honest.

'Yes, I always did, right from the start, and then I got to know you better and loved you for you, but sometimes… sometimes I miss this version. It's silly, but we had some good times, you know, driving through to LA all those months ago, stopping at the roadside, being a couple like that out in the open… to the world at large. I know that always hurt you,' she said sadly, 'I never meant it to.'

'Well if this spell isn't a little truth serum,' he muttered and she took him to mean his glamour. 'You're just full of surprises… no, no, don't feel bad, it's important to be honest isn't it.' Novica allowed his eyes to roam over her downcast head. 'Its only natural,' he reassured, 'It must be hard loving something so very…. Green,' and he bit his lip against a giggle so as not to spoil the moment.

'I'm just sorry I was so precious about it…' he pouted as though thoughtful and sincere, deep with need to make things right. 'Maybe I could… if you wanted… make it up to you.' His face smiled gently while inside his mind played games. Sasha looked up again at him will ill 

disguised desire and Novica struggled not to laugh out loud. Oh this was so simple, taking candy from a baby didn't come into it. A bit of magic, a bit of power, and a bit of latent unfulfilled need in the demon's girl, and Novica had every tool he needed to destroy Lorne's precarious world. She'd handed him the weapon and she'd have to live with that guilt when it all fell apart. Novica reached out and tenderly caressed Sasha's face. If he had to fake this role he might as well enjoy it; he might as well hit Lorne where it really hurt.

-- --

The room around them vanished and the barren shadow paths returned, but they remained together. After a beat the winds around them settled to a breeze and Wesley drew back slightly in Fred's arms, gazing about him. The paths were grey and colourless, devoid of feature or landmark. He reached into a jacket pocket and extracted his long discarded glasses, rubbing them briefly on a sleeve and popping them in place on his nose.

'Um… Fred?' he said coyly, 'You don't happen to know how to get out of here do you?'

-- --

Everything was just as he remembered it: the same gleaming corridors and glass, the same elevators and stairs, the same bustle of activity. It struck him as odd how similar the atmosphere was to how it had been under Angel's command. Surely it should feel more evil, more intrinsically bad now that Lindsay was at the helm. His mind quickly stopped questioning, the only effect it had was to make him more certain that Evil Inc had been a mistake on the part of Team Angel. The biggest ever.

Lindsay strolled beside him relaxed and at home in his surroundings. He nodded at colleagues and smiled the pleasant smile of the lawyer, opening doors and ushering Lorne through with consideration. Another colleague on his way to Lindsay's office for a meeting; a former employee welcomed back onto the premises. Except that former employees of Wolfram and Hart didn't usually come back. Not in one piece anyway. It all seemed so civil, and when at last they reached the door which had once led to Angel's office Lindsay paused and whispered a few words to his pretty secretary as many a boss might before disappearing into his room, Lorne in tow.

'Sit down,' he offered. Lorne looked about the room, the décor was very slightly altered but the layout was about the same. He hesitated and in the pause Lindsay flicked a switch and changed the glass panels which looked out onto the lobby from clear to opaque. The movement jolted Lorne, his memory suddenly filled with the last meeting Angel had called in here, the illusions he had cast on those same windows to fool the employees outside. He felt his heart rate suddenly pick up and he knew Lindsay sensed it. 'Please, sit,' Lindsay repeated, and he gestured not at the chair in front of the desk but the one behind. His own. Lorne's brow knit fractionally and he looked with suspicion at the seat. 'That's right, at the desk, don't worry, there's a good reason for it. It won't bite,' Lindsay went on with mild irritation, 'Just sit down will you?'

There was enough warning in his voice to motivate Lorne who edged around the desk and sat in Angel's old place. Lindsay smiled and began to mix himself a drink, the atmosphere growing tense as he kept up the façade of pleasantry.

It surprised Lorne how easily he could look at him; this man he had killed less than a year before. Yet there he was just feet away, healthy, alive. A hard shot of emotion sat sternly in Lorne's chest but he could not quite discern what it was. It wasn't guilt; he didn't feel remorse, looking at Lindsay now seemed to dispel those feelings, and the nightmares which had haunted him since that day. So if it wasn't guilt what was it? Bitterness? Some deep resentment that it hadn't worked and that Lindsay was back, undamaged, probably stronger than before running this joint? Lorne looked down at the desk and tried to get his thoughts under control. He regretted that Lindsay hadn't stayed dead when he had shot him, what did that say about him, what kind of a person did that make Lorne?

A clink and single iced malt was deposited in his eye line, moisture from the glass speckling the desk. His eyes fixed on it while his other senses told him that Lindsay had moved to one side, hovering above him, sipping at his drink, his aura unreadable and closed.

No it wasn't as simple as wishing Lindsay had stayed dead. Lorne felt himself reach out for the glass and wrap his fingers around its chill surface. It wasn't about Lindsay at all. It was about Lorne. It was about the moment he had pulled the trigger and done the job.

He took a sip and felt the heat of the alcohol burn his throat and at the same time the jumble of feelings began to merge into place. How ironic that in order to face his demons and work things out he had to be here, in this building, with this company standing close by. His lips twitched in recognition of the black humour.

Lindsay should still be dead. Not just because he was evil and would cause all amounts of trouble now that he was back. But because it made things fairer. For Lorne. He closed his eyes briefly and remembered the scene, the crack of the shots and Lindsay's look of disbelief, and somewhere unheard and unseen within, a different sound that had caused him to drop the gun and leave.

Killing Lindsay had destroyed Lorne's spirit, and now that Lindsay was back, it was all for nothing.

Slowly Lorne opened his eyes again and looked up at his victim who was watching his torment with ill-disguised pleasure.

'Shall we get started?' Lindsay said, 'Lots to do.'

And then Lorne saw it. He looked past Lindsay MacDonald and towards the end of the room where Angel had kept a huge plasma TV and sound system. Whether it was surveillance, Smile Time or ice hockey the thing had dominated that end of the office, but now it was gone, replaced by a much more sinister object. Heavy, familiar, powerful, it had threatened to end the world. Lorne instinctively backed away, pressing himself into the chair and gripping hard at the arm of it. A chuckle to his left told him Lindsay had seen his reaction.

'Its not the same one, that one is still in the white room, we'd never fit it in here and as a mystical object it needs to be kept safe. No this is a smaller version with a different purpose. We won't be doing any inter-dimensional soul sucking with this baby!' Lindsay strode towards it, glass in hand, spinning by the side of it on one heel as though he were a salesman pitching a car or a game show host showing off a prize.

His showman's grin suddenly fell away as he looked back at Lorne.

'You shot me,' he said flatly, 'You think I'm going to let you sit there and drink my whiskey and just let it pass? I should kill you Lorne, but it wouldn't be as much fun as this…' behind him a shimmer of magic sent a slight breeze across the room. Lorne tried to push himself from his chair but as he struggled two sets of bindings shot from the arms and held him there, wrapping themselves tightly over his wrists and clamping him in place. He gasped and looked down desperately.

'There are many ways to destroy a being,' Lindsay was saying, 'You learn that working here. You started with the basics, the gun, and well… that kinda failed didn't it?' he gestured to his living self, 'but I've worked up a few more levels than you over the years. I think you'll find my methods are much more advanced… and effective.'

Lorne raised his head and glared at Lindsay, fear and rage burning in is eyes, but Lindsay dismissed it easily; folding his arms and turning towards the mirror at the back of the office. Novica's mirror.

'Watch carefully,' he said, and the image of Lorne's apartment flickered into view. 'Because this is your life.'

-- --

With Aviline settled Sasha was only too grateful to make her way to their room, padding softly across the carpet bare footed and easing the jacket from her shoulders. She didn't feel right, but then it had been a heck of a day. The shapeshifter had drained her physically and emotionally, leading the team a merry and destructive dance across town. The Team. Spike was still out there. Was he back on the team now, was he really forgiven? And the girl who had flown to their aid, Lucy, was she a new member too? Another slayer. Would she stay or be summoned to Italy by the new Council? There was so much to consider. She should be considering it all now. Oh but her head was spinning, and she was tired.

Sasha hesitated by the bed and rubbed her hand over her forehead. She should really get back out there and find them, check the girl was OK. She couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen surely. So much to cope with, such a bizarre introduction to slaying. It used to be so easy. There's a vampire, go kill it. Now there were so many other weird beasts to contend with and half the vampire population seemed to be on the home team. And then there was the apocalypse and the fall out from that…

'Shhh…' his voice was smooth and she felt his hands pass over her shoulders, down her sides, drawing her backward into his arms. 'Someone's got a busy little head on them tonight,' he cooed.

'I should go find Lucy and Spike, debrief…' her words came with difficulty, her mind clouded.

'No, sweetheart, they'll be fine, trust me,' Novica spun her gently in his embrace and she found her head level with his broad chest. He pulled her head to him and rested it there.

'I can hear your heart,' she muttered and a light giggle escaped her, 'I never realised the glamour did that too, it's like you're really human…'

Novica let one hand slip up and down her spine in a slow caress. 'We could have a lot of fun with that,' he smiled. He felt her fingers slide up his chest then, slipping between the buttons of his shirt and touching the skin there. Further down the soft movement of her body against his pressed insistently against him.

'We're OK aren't we?' she asked him, 'You're not mad with me about the glamour?'

'I said didn't I?' he replied, his eyes fixed on the mirror behind, 'I said it didn't matter, it's OK,' and he grinned into the glass at his own reflection, 'Everything's OK.' He held his own gaze for a moment and then as though suddenly inspired he fell to work.

Novica drew Sasha back from him and with a swift smooth movement his lips came to meet hers. She was warm and drowsy with exertion and magics and she yielded quickly to him. He felt firm and strong and she wanted more than anything at that moment to be part of him, to give way and be just a woman and not a slayer. She was safe with him, always safe with him, 'Lorne.' Her voice was light and expressed nothing but her love and pride in him, but he covered her mouth quickly again with his and cut off her words, slipping his hands under her clothes, unhooking and unfastening, relishing the sense of her skin hot and bare under his touch. To be wanted in this way was a uniquely human sense and he experimented with the feelings in his new body.

Her own hands were working on him, pulling the shirt from his chest and running her fingers through the light hair on soft human skin. She pulled back from his kiss and let her lips trail over his body, her tongue drinking in the taste of his flesh, so different from the demon. Her mouth found the altered texture of his nipple, sensitive delicate skin, the hairs tickling at her nose, the warmth of his body on her cheek. She explored with new fervour, this other lover equally hers. She drew a gasp from him and with a strong movement he laid her down on the bed, balancing his weight above her, his broad shoulders and lean back reflected in the mirror behind them. She caught a glimpse and traced the lines of his human body with her eyes, the smooth curve of muscles descending towards his buttocks. He was beautiful, her living fantasy from those weeks spent travelling together towards the apocalypse. She had dreamt of him like this despite herself, despite her love for the person he was regardless of his demon heritage. She had dreamt of a time where she would see him above her, handsome, human.

She felt him kissing at her neck, his altered profile buried in her skin, his teeth nipping gently at her and his breath ragged. He was intense and driven, the languorous love making they normally shared somehow different and more primal now. She responded with a surge of need and searing desire, her nails gripping hard at his back and her hips pushing urgently into his. He moved her on the bed, pulling her down, shifting her body to fit his better and as she felt him at her centre she pulled her eyes from the mirror to find his. He entered her hard and as she gasped she caught his vision, his soft brown eyes framed with the darkest of lashes, and the emptiness within.

-- --

'He knows I can see doesn't he?' Lorne said quietly, the images in the mirror becoming blurred and refocusing as he blinked.

Lindsay quaffed back the last of his whiskey and let the glass rest in his lap. He was perched on the edge of the desk switching his view between Novica and Lorne. 'Oh yes,' he said, 'he's playing up for the cameras a little... so is she by the looks of it… wow she's really into him… I mean er… you...' he laughed. 'She's been wanting this for a while I bet, a little human loving, I mean I don't know what you demon types have going for you 'down there' but judging by her reaction she's glad of the change!' he glanced at Lorne to sense his reaction, smiled and then returned his attention to the screen. Sasha raked her nails down Novica's back as he entered her, arching her back to meet him, and Lindsay let out a low sigh, 'Wow… She's quite something isn't she?'

Lorne swallowed hard, the bile creeping to his throat and the sickness stirring weakly in his guts. But he couldn't look away. He watched each movement and heard each gasp. And he knew, he knew that Lindsay was right. She wanted this. She'd always wanted this.

-- --

The emptiness within. The brown eyes were cold and a jolt of unease past through her. There was something wrong. 'Change back,' she whispered. 'Please, just change back.'

He looked at her briefly before ignoring her request and returning his attentions to her neck. His movements were more frequent now, his rhythm picking up as his desire increased. With each thrust he drove deeper into her body, his muscles taut and unrelenting.

Sasha reached round and drew his face back to hers, if she could just sense him; if she could just find him it would be OK. She looked into his eyes, anxiety crossing her features, 'Lorne?' His lips broke into a smile but it did nothing to reassure her, the corners of his mouth pinched in cruelty rather than joy and it didn't reach those eyes. This wasn't how it was. When they made love she would lose herself in him, they were connected physically, psychically. She opened up her mind and searched for him but found herself blocked off, a wall of nothing preventing her from reaching her.

'Lorne, please, what's happening, please stop, I want you, please be you…'

She felt the laughter before she heard it. The shuddering of it beginning in his chest and the short gasps at her neck as he pinned her roughly to the bed by her wrists. He was shaking with the amusement of it all, at her confusion and fear, and the hurt ran so deep in her that she became helpless. She had ten times his strength but she couldn't use it against him now. Instead she bit hard on her lip as the tears formed and braced her body against his climax, willing it to be over, willing this moment gone, willing that it wasn't real.

-- --

Lindsay waved the mirror into submission, as Lorne had seen Novica do long before now, and slid down from the desk to return his glass to its place by the decanter. Lorne said nothing, even as the bindings which held him to the chair slithered from his wrists. He heard the office door open and felt Lindsay hover by it.

'Now you're not going anywhere are you?' the lawyer said by way of double checking. 'You 

know how this place works; you'll never get out, too many sensors and security guys. So you just sit there a while and think about things. Make yourself at home. Watch a little TV…' he giggled to himself.

Still the demon didn't move.

'See Lorne,' Lindsay said, drawing himself up with the self assuredness that was his trademark 'You think I broke your spirit when you pulled that trigger but I didn't. Your spirit didn't break Lorne, what you experienced was a big bout of self pity and then there you were fighting the good fight all over again, spirit intact. Thanks to that little lady am I right?'

Lorne raised his eyes like two dead weights and looked at him. Lindsay smiled with the ghost of pity.

'I'll make a better job of it this time, you have my word.'

-- --

In the darkness of the bedroom she watched him sleeping, her mind reeling with reasons and explanations for his behaviour. He had said little to her when it was over, rolling sideways and away from her. So unlike Lorne. In her heart she compared each action with those she remembered. He would hold her until they slept; he would talk until sunrise and he would let her guide and determined the pace. His only concern was her, her happiness and contentment, her safety. He was tender and compassionate and he would read her as they made love, the colours of her aura and the feelings deep inside. It was never like this. He never forced his own way, never ignored her requests. He was never empty.

She couldn't stop the tears as they trickled silently down her face, wetting the pillow and her hair. Maybe it was her, maybe she somehow deserved this. For pushing him over the glamour, maybe he was making a point. 'You want me human? Well this is the price.' But that wasn't Lorne either. He didn't do retribution; he never wanted to hurt her.

Sasha sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him. Half desperate to wake him and make him talk and half determined not to for fear of what he might say. She felt sore and used. Her wrist hurt where he had restrained hard against the sheets and she rubbed at it absently, her body churning with unsettled fear and misery. She shouldn't be so weak, she should force the issue and get to the bottom of it and she shouldn't let him treat her this way.

She slid from the bed and from the room with only the moonlight to guide her, a blanket cast round her shoulders to keep off the chill. She shouldn't be weak, but when it came to Lorne she was.

-- --

'Come on green,' Spike muttered as he banged a third time on the closed door of caritas. 'Get out of your bed!'

In the alleyway behind him Lucy stood aimlessly in the gloom. Her shoulders were hunched and she seemed remarkably thin and tremulous for a new slayer. But new slayer she was 

according to what Spike had just witnessed and as such he couldn't just pack her on her way. That, and it pained him to admit, he was concerned for her. She was on her own, they way they all were. Slayers. Always so isolated. Even Buffy with her Scooby gang spent most of her time banging on about how alone she was. How misunderstood. He cast a glance back over his shoulder at the girl. She was probably freezing, the little vest top clung to her coldly. This one was proper alone to, mum nowhere in sight and dad finished off by the shapeshifter. Didn't get any prettier, this world.

He resumed his hammering on the door. 'Oi, Lorne!' he raised a fist to beat down again and the door swung open. Sasha stood in the dim light of the interior and frowned at him.

'Cheers love,' he said amiably and ushered the new slayer inside. He made straight for the bar and helped himself, certain Sasha wouldn't stop him where Lorne might. He grabbed himself first a beer and then blood and proceeded to mix the two. Lucy grimaced.

'What?' Spike asked. 'Not often I have the facilities to mix. Now where's the malt, I could do with a chaser.'

'Sit down,' Sasha said wearily, offering the girl a seat. She took the blanket she had slung around her shoulders and draped it over the girl's body to stop the shivering before it started. Until a couple of hours ago the teenager had been lying in a shapeshifter induced coma. Now she was awake, facing the loss of her dad and her rebirth into this new and dangerous world. Shock couldn't be far off.

'What's Spike told you?' Sasha asked.

Lucy looked wide eyed from the slayer to the vampire and shrugged. 'I don't get it,' she confessed. 'Any of it.'

'Dead simple love,' Spike said and began pointing at things, 'Vampire, Slayer, demon bar, karaoke… er…' he paused and Sasha shot him a look.

'OK, ignore everything he said and let me give you the run down. I don't expect you to take it all in but we've gotta start somewhere right.'

'I say we start with beer,' Spike lifted one from the fridge and proffered it to Lucy.

'She's sixteen!' Sasha said.

'I say we start with beer,' Lucy echoed.

Sasha sighed and pulled her chair closer to the little table at which they sat. OK… things a new slayer needed to know. She looked down at the floor, at the debris from the night's clientele which littered it, un-swept. Cigarette buts and filters, shards from the odd shattered glass. Odd. Lorne always swept up before he went to bed. He found it therapeutic. Even on nights like these he'd come back to the club and tidy, rinse glasses and ground himself.

Spike swung a chair so it faced backwards and plopped himself down on it, drink in hand and one for Lucy. He looked between the new slayer and the old with perky interest and then sighed. Sasha roused herself slowly and turned her attention back to the job in hand but the 

vacant look remained in her eyes. Lucy plucked at the blanket silently. He grabbed the beer he'd brought for her and flipped the cap from it placing it in her hand.

'Not saying it's an answer but it might be a place to start,' he said, 'and you,' he looked at Sasha, 'wanna tell me what's going on? Because this girly here needs a guide on this new path of hers and you're not much up to that from what I can see.'

Sasha looked back at the debris on the floor and felt the club grow still around her. Spike took a swing from his drink.

'All the time in the world…' he conceded, 'No big rush, kind of un-dead and immortal here…' he looked at Lucy's alarmed expression, 'You might want to make note of that for future reference.'

-- --

He rolled and found nothing, Sasha had left. Novica opened his eyes to the darkness and the empty bed before stretching across the sheets in a star formation. The pillows still smelt of her perfume. What an interesting evening it had been. He did hope that Lorne had caught the show. He smiled at the ceiling, the taste of her still in his mouth. How she had craved him. Briefly he shut his eyes and remembered the feel of her thighs around his hips, the strength of her holding him to her. He felt the warmth travel from his memories and centre in his groin, smiling to himself as he lay there. But the best part was still to come; the best part was when he looked into her eyes and saw her uncertainty.

A thought occurred to him. She hadn't realised had she? No, the magics were strong. She still believed he was Lorne she just believed Lorne had gone a little cold. And that was good. That was the best outcome he could hope for. This way he could play the game and make her believe that somehow she had pushed him away. Somehow she had forced him to stop loving her. But he didn't much care about her. What he really cared about was in an office on the other side of town. Novica slipped naked from the sheets and went to sit by the dresser. He rifled through the cosmetics he found there and splashed his body with Lorne's cologne; he pulled a few experimental Lorne faces. A shocked pose, a wide smile, a look of endearment. Finally he cupped his chin in one hand and stared into his own brown eyes before waving the image away.

Lorne materialised in the glass. Slumped over Angel's old desk with a glass in his hand. Even from this distance Novica could see the tears. He was about to say hello when a noise disturbed him. Dispelling the image he turned and looked across the dark bedroom. The noise repeated and he smiled to himself. This just got better. Grabbing a silk robe from the back of the door he cruised into the hallway. 'S'Ok cutie pie,' he sang, 'daddy's coming.'

-- --

The tunnel grew more distinct as they walked, pushing them in a single direction. Fred felt Wesley's hand entwined with hers and the feeling of certainty washed over her again. Around them the shadow paths gave way and allowed them to pass.

'When I came here before they threw me out,' Fred said conversationally, 'I kept arriving back in my room and I kept throwing myself back in again.'

'Silly Fred,' he said affectionately, 'but always determined, eh? Hopefully you won't ever have to come back here again. It's not the most welcoming of places and human beings weren't designed to walk these paths. It's easy to get lost on them and end up somewhere bad.'

'How did they know to send me towards you?' she queried, kicking playfully at the mist which swirled around her feet. There was a light ahead of them now indicating the exit and they drifted towards it almost without effort. 'Was it really the Powers That Be?' she asked.

'I don't rightly know,' he conceded, 'I like to think so, I've done them a few good turns in the past.'

The light ahead grew dimmer and objects came into view. A bed, a dresser, a pentagram. Fred's room above Caritas.

'We're almost home,' she said.

-- --

'Great timing Willow!' Cordy was chiding, 'great timing. Lorne gets his life stolen and you send his babysitter into the shadowpaths to pick up her boyfriend!'

'It's Wesley!'

'It could have waited a couple of days! A couple of hours would probably do it!'

'Cordy!' Willow sprang up from where she was watching Lorne. 'Fred was in a mess, she was trying to find Illyria and raise her again. She was putting herself at risk. She was using dark magics! I had to do something!'

'What gave you this kind of power anyway?' Cordelia eyed her with suspicion. 'I've been here an age and they didn't have me raising the dead.'

Willow sighed sharply and folded her arms. 'I'm a wicca, power goes with the job description. The PTB have tapped into what's already there.'

'Yes well we've seen where that leads us haven't we Miss Take Over and Destroy the World given a sniff of power!'

'This is different.'

'I don't see how.'

'Look at them,' Willow shot a beam of magic towards the image of Lorne and it changed to Fred and Wesley. They watched as they stepped down from the portal and into Fred's room, still hand in hand. Cordelia flinched at the sight of her friends, the emotion causing her features to buckle momentarily. Willow softened her voice and moved closer to her friend. 'It's not just for them of course, ' she said, 'There's a higher purpose, I'm not doing this on a whim to make my friends happy, the orders come from above, and we _need_ Wesley, but how can you be angry Cordy, when you see them like that?'

Cordelia drew herself together. 'You brought Buffy back. Look what happened there, you messed with destiny, you changed everything, it even triggered this apocalypse, so don't tell me this is OK.'

Willow's features jerked as though she'd been slapped. There was a silence filled only by the breathing sigh of the Other World's peaceful atmosphere.

'I'm sorry,' Cordelia said finally, 'I know this is different, and I know there are huge things at stake here and we're PTB endorsed. I just don't want to see them hurt anymore. They always get hurt, all of them, and we have all this power and they still get hurt. We can't protect them and it frustrates me OK?'

'I know.'

Cordelia changed the image back to Lorne, he was being moved deep within the Wolfram and Hart building and into darkness again. 'We have to make him see,' she said.

Behind her Willow's face fell into sadness. 'Soon,' she said. She knew what was coming, she'd seen it predestined and it was horrible. But the PTB ordained it and it would be the catalyst that opened the next chapter, it was the start of things coming right again. 'I wish it didn't have to be this way,' she said softly. Cordelia turned to her, eyebrows raised, curiosity in her features.

'What do you know?' she asked sharply. 'What has to happen now?'

The image before them changed of its own accord.

-- --

The children's room. A crib to one side where Aviline lay muttering in her sleep. Novica crossed the threshold without glancing left or right. He looked straight at her, at her demon features and at what she represented. She was half awake only, gurgling in semi-dreams. From below he could hear voices, activity in the bar. It had to be Sasha, and others. He'd go down there in a little while and confuse her further. Be the perfect host. Act warmly, mix drinks, discuss how terribly important it was to fight the good fight, make plans for the future like the good guy he was. He leaned over the crib and touched the baby's hands gently.

'I thought you were awake, little one, so what was making that noise hmmm?'

The stifled sob behind him made him straighten and turn. 'Was it you, little man?' he asked smiling. 'What are the tears for Toby, it's only me, just your uncle Lorne but with a new face.'

The boy drew himself up under the covers and dragged the blankets about him. In the gloom his eyes were wide and bright. Life had been difficult for Toby but he'd liked it here at the club. He liked Sasha, and he liked to be near Aviline. He missed his home and his mom, but his real home was gone because of the bad man called Novica. Now the bad man was back. Standing in his room pretending to be Lorne. But he wasn't Lorne. He could tell. And he wished he couldn't, because the bad man's face told him that he knew.

The kid whimpered and Novica knew Toby was on to him. His features fell into anger and with a stride he was at the bedside, one hand clamped over the kid's mouth and the other pressing hard against his throat.

'Well, if it isn't the one who got away, the special soul, the prophecy boy' he hissed. 'I didn't realise they still kept you here… no home to go to… oh that's right' his voice lightened, 'I destroyed it.'

Toby's tears gathering on the edge of Novica's restraining palm. The wetness tickled and irritated him and he resisted the urge to wipe this weak human fluid from his flesh.

'I think you're a liability young man,' he went on, 'I think you've caused me enough problems. Oh if only I could drink from you now… wouldn't that be just so fitting? Open you up and take that damned soul at last?' he questioned the terrified boy with bright sparkling 

eyes. His manner was almost jolly. 'Do you think because you are special I won't hurt you? Do you think I'll bide my time and drink from you when I regain my powers? Do you? Well maybe that would be the best thing to do, the most sensible from my point of view. But right now… I don't know if it's my weak human side coming out or what…. But right now I just want revenge kiddo.' He pressed harder on the boy's throat and felt him splutter against his palm. 'Right now I just want you dead.'

The child's limbs began to kick out in desperation and Novica moved to secure him against the bed with his weight. He cocked his head and looked down at Toby, the smile never leaving his lips and the boy struggled and choked. Novica kept the pressure on firmly, unrelentingly, savouring each of Toby's last moments, and he watched in silence as the life drained from his eyes.

-- --

Cordelia spun from the image in a rage.

'Willow!' she was unable to contain her disgust and disappointment in her friend. Toby Wyatt's body lay limp and dead as Novica backed away from him, impassivity crossing his face, tainted with disgust only as he wiped the boy's tears from his hands.

'For god's sake he's a child! Are you going to tell me this was for the greater good now? He was five years old! And you just let that happen… you just watched! If I had your power I'd… I'd…' she was lost for words.

Willow said nothing, just stared at the floor with the tears coursing down her face. Cordelia tore at her own hair in frustration, her eyes leaping back to the image conjured before them and anger searing through her heart. And then she froze.

'My God,' she whispered, 'What the…?'

Willow raised her eyes and watched. The lifeless form on the bed did not move, but from it Toby's figure rose and crossed the room. He appeared to pass straight through Novica who did not react, busy as he was cleaning himself up. The child went straight to Aviline who had woken and whose cries were piercing the room. In irritation Novica snapped at her and as though she sensed he was not her father the baby's cries grew louder. Still Novica was unaware of Toby, who reached into the crib and laid a hand on Aviline. The crying abated.

'What's happening?' Cordelia said softly.

'What has to.'

'Willow!' Cordy rounded on her. 'Enough of this mystery stuff... you explain to me right now what the hell is going on,' she fixed her with her huge eyes.

'You were right,' Willow said, 'Lorne needs to get on with things, discover his gift and use it before Novica regains his powers and the whole mess starts over. And this is the way…'

Cordy frowned. 'No, I'm still not getting it.'

'Toby will show him.' Willow took a breath and addressed the image. 'Toby?' she said, 'It's time to go and get Aviline's daddy. Go and get Lorne, and then you can go home.'

-- --

Lindsay MacDonald was perched on Angel's old desk watching the proceedings with a grimace. He'd have to rein this thing in. Novica was used to wielding a lot of power and he was apt to throw caution to the wind. He looked into the mirror and watched as Novica finished wiping his hands on his robe. He casually moved to cover the boy's body, as though he were sleeping wrapped up in his blankets.

The Old One cast a quick flippant glance over to where he knew the lawyer was watching and said 'Deal with that will you?' before sauntering from the room with a cursory glance at Aviline.

Lindsay shut off the images from the mirror and lifted the phone. He paused and then instructed the unseen voice. 'We need a clean up over at Lorne's club, seems he's playing dangerously. Yeah… just this once. Code 679C; corpse removal and spellbinding.' He dropped the receiver back into its crib and stared at the empty mirror. Novica had better watch his step after this.

'You're not indispensable,' he said to the glass.

-- --

'Hey kittens,' Novica appeared behind the bar, 'What did I miss?'

Spike looked up sharply. 'Blimey, you're all pink and fleshy. Where's the green.'

'Thought it was safer to wear a glamour while the curfews are in place,' Sasha said a tad too quickly. Her voice had the tone of one reciting an instruction or a list. 'Place is crawling with cops,' she finished.

'Umm… yeah!' Novica said quickly, 'That's about the jist of it.'

Spike eyed him cautiously. 'Lorne, mate, you had a full on panic attack at the idea of wearing that face and now you're sauntering around the bar with it… there has to be some…' Novica had rapidly approached him and set a drink before him on the table, tapping his shoulder as he passed. The magic passed through Spike in a shimmer.

'Nothing to worry about, Spike,' Novica said and watched as the vampire lifted his blood to his lips. Novica shot a harsh glance at the mirror behind the bar as though to instruct Wolfram and Hart to get their darned magics sorted out. 'So like I said, what did I miss? I'm sorry I took off but I had some thinking to do… you guys coped OK though right? You always do, you're my guys… I have such faith in y'all.' He sat by Sasha and let his hand fold over hers on the table. She flinched and looked up at him but was met only by a warm smile and a pair of big brown eyes.

'You OK honey,' he asked, 'had me worried when I woke up and you weren't there.'

'I…' she faltered. 'I…. I'm fine… I guess it's just been a long day.' He leaned forward and brushed her cheek with his lips, the familiar scent of his cologne comforting. Had she imagined all that went before, was it just a one off? He was rubbing her hands now between his, warm and concerned.

'Hate to break up the party,' Spike said slowly, 'but we have ourselves a new slayer and she needs a little instructing on the way of things… now apparently I'm not the one to be doing that, something about me filling the kid's head with nasties,' he looked at Sasha pointedly, 'but I thought I was just being honest about the gig. Anyway, not to worry… you're here now and you were always good with the comforting reassurances… so why don't you fill her in on Life as a Slayer.'

Novica looked at the girl suspiciously before one of the wide smiles he had practiced upstairs filled his face. 'Well sure! What do you need to know, I'm sure I can give you a unique little old perspective on life.'

'If you don't mind I think you'll find that of the six of us in this room, I'm the qualified Watcher.' The group turned and found Wesley standing by the door to the apartment, Fred at his side. 'Hello Lucy,' he said softly, 'My name is Wesley Wyndham-Pryce and _I_ am your new watcher.'

'Bloody hell,' Spike stuttered, 'Bloody hell!' Wesley's face broke into a grin and he moved to embrace an unusually exuberant Spike. 'What the hell happened to you? Are you real?' Spike punched him on the shoulder. 'Because things are weird enough without you being a wind up merchant. You smell real,' he considered and slapped Wesley on the back again. 'Lorne, Lorne! Get him to sing, we need to check him out,' and he waved Novica forward.

'Oh hey I don't think that's necessary,' Novica managed. What in the gods' names was going on? Who was this Wyndham-Pryce guy and why hadn't Lindsay mentioned anything? 'I'm sure he's who he says he is.'

Wesley was looking at him curiously. 'Lorne?' he queried, 'You're wearing a glamour, yes? You alright? I know it must be a bit of a shock… it's a bit of a shock to me… but its good to be here, its good to be back with you all!' by his side Spike was actually grinning, one arm around Wesley the other around Fred. She grinned back at him, the first time he had seen her happy since… well since before Illyria. Spike motioned Sasha forward to do the introductions, suddenly possessed by the spirit of host as he had never been before. 'Lorne?' Wesley said again. As the others surrounded Wesley Novica felt himself back away under the scrutiny of the Englishman's gaze, busying himself with a suitably Lorne-type activity by preparing some celebratory drinks behind the bar. He glared into the mirror there as he did so, his voice muffled by the laughter of the group behind him.

'Lindsay, you tell me what the hell is going on, right now!'

-- --

Lorne sat on the edge of the hard bed and looked down into his linked hands. The room was as dark as before and he anticipated many hours in its solitude. He couldn't figure out if it was better or worse than seeing Novica in the mirror, in his life. He bit his lip and tried to hold back the latest round of tears. Tears were getting him nowhere. They were solving nothing. He was still here trapped in this building, powerless, while his enemy slept between 

his sheets, unnoticed. Ever since the day Angel had taken the fight to the Circle of the Black Thorn, Lorne had struggled. He wasn't a leader, he wasn't made to shoulder this kind of responsibility day in day out and he just didn't know where to turn now that he was utterly alone. There _was_ nowhere to turn except the four dark walls which surrounded him. As far as his friends and family were concerned he was with them, in Caritas, and who knew if they would ever realise. Novica had well and truly taken his life and tonight Lorne had witnessed him take the woman he loved. He'd witnessed her pain and he'd felt her believe that he, Lorne, had caused it.

He covered his face with his hands and tried again to think.

'Lorne?' Toby's small voice cut through the darkness. Lorne raised his head. The boy stood in front of him, his eyes bright.

He jumped. He couldn't help it. 'What the? Toby how did you get here? Aren't you at home… I don't… Toby…' his voice fell away as Toby pulled down the collar of his pyjamas and revealed the faint bruising visible around his neck. It was fading before Lorne's eyes but he immediately knew the cause and he felt rage flame in his guts.

'He's a bad man,' Toby said, 'And he hurt me. He'll hurt the others too. I'm going home soon, to the Other World, the lady told me, she told me they were waiting for me, but she said I had to come here first and help you.'

'Help me?' Lorne said breathlessly. 'Help me how? I'm stuck here.'

'She said I had to show you,' Toby said simply, 'that she gave you a special gift. She gave you it for helping me before, and the others when the bad man took us. Now you have to use it to help them, and to send him away.'

'I'm going home now,' Toby said as he took a step towards Lorne, 'and you should too.'

'But I…'

The child reached out and touched Lorne, a solid feeling despite his slight and ghostly form which sent electricity through Lorne's body. He shuddered and closed his eyes against the pain and forced himself to take the child's hand. When their fingers met the dark room shivered and vanished. Toby was gone, his last words morphing into Willow's voice.

'You are the Walker of Worlds,' she said. 'You are never alone.'

He opened his eyes, and he wasn't.


	11. Chapter 11 : Walker of Worlds

_The child reached out and touched Lorne, a solid feeling despite his slight and ghostly form which sent electricity through Lorne's body. He shuddered and closed his eyes against the pain and forced himself to take the child's hand. When their fingers met the dark room shivered and vanished. Toby was gone, his last words morphing into Willow's voice._

'_You are the Walker of Worlds,' she said. 'You are never alone.'_

_He opened his eyes, and he wasn't._

_-- --_

Toby let go of Lorne's hand and ran, his little legs pumping and the sound of laughter drifting back towards the demon as he stood transfixed and dazed by their journey. He watched with uncomprehending eyes as the boy's figure receded into the distance, the air around them bright and clear. Nothing stretched out before them but the boy knew where he was headed.

'Where in the…?' Lorne began and faltered. His soft voice seemed dangerously loud in this environment. Slowly the brilliant white of the Other World began to change and flex, morphing into meadows and starlight, streams and sunrise, until finally it settled. A small garden and a house just out of reach; a set of swings and a scatter of toys on a lawn. As Lorne looked on two figures became clear, stepping down from the porch and welcoming Toby to them. As he squinted against the sunlight, trying focus on their faces he became aware of another figure to one side of him.

'The Other World,' the voice said, 'is whatever the soul needs it to be. I guess this is what he needed.'

'His family,' Lorne replied, suddenly sure of what he was witnessing. 'He said he was going home.'

'And he did. Just like I did,' the voice said warmly. 'It's good to see you Lorne.'

Lorne drew his eyes from the scene and looked at the man to his right, a wave of understanding and relief washing over him. Even as his companion smiled at him the atmosphere changed again and the dark streets of LA surrounded them, lights flashed in windows and the sound of the night reached their ears; music and the chatter of friendship, laughter floating in the breeze. This home belonged to the young man beside him.

'It's good to see you too, Charles,' Lorne smiled.

Gunn reached for his hand and drew him into a tight embrace, clapping him hard on the back once or twice before pulling away and grinning at him.

'I never knew it'd be you,' he said, his smile never leaving him, 'Damn fine choice, damn fine.' Gunn's eyes roamed over Lorne's features in wonder.

'You're making me nervous,' Lorne said, 'In the words of the film, I see dead people, and one too many of them right now.'

A gale of laughter from his friend. 'Yeah well I get how that might freak out a brother, but that's why I'm here. Figure you need a few things explaining to you and the PTB thought I was the guy to do it. That little kid…'

'Toby…'

'Toby… yeah,' Gunn's voice was tinged with sadness, 'It wasn't a waste Lorne, he had his role to play, and you saw him there, he's happy now. Guess the powers weighed it up and came to the conclusion that'd he'd never recover from all that shit so they sent him home. And he showed you a thing or two right? Showed you how to get here and that's important.'

'I just kinda ended up here…' Lorne confessed.

'No, man, 'Gunn slung his arm around Lorne's shoulder and began to walk him down the city street, 'No he triggered something in you, something the powers gave you a while ago when they sent you back. You know, after Novica, after you bit the dust…'

'How do you know about that?'

'Hey, I'm dead, I know everything now,' he laughed, 'makes me kinda glad I didn't bother too hard with school when I was living, 'cos you find it all out when you come here. Anyhow, I don't have long with you man, I've gotta get back…'

'Back where?

Gunn paused in his stride and looked at Lorne steadily, 'My own bit of heaven, my friend, and you've gotta get back too, back down there, back to your crew.'

'What do I do when I get there? How do I get there? How did I get _here_?' the questions tumbled out of Lorne.

'You willed it.' Gunn said simply, leading Lorne down an alleyway to a warehouse and pausing outside the entrance.

'That's it?'

'Pretty much, you are packing some serious mojo, Lorne; you're what they call the Walker of Worlds, a spirit guide, a communicator between worlds. It's a once in a generation thing with big time power.'

'Like a slayer?' Lorne's mind strayed to Sasha.

'Like slayers used to be, a Chosen One, well, you've been chosen.'

'I'm not sure I get this.'

'Let me give you the run down,' Gunn pushed through the door and entered the warehouse. When the emerged they were in a vast hall, a ceiling lit by stars, dozens of doors leading off from every angle and a huge pool of viscous dark fluid at the centre.

'Every door leads to a dimension,' Gunn said, 'This is kind of command central for the powers, both good and evil. Like the white room but bigger, timeless. Now not everyone can get into every door. Good guys go through the good doors, bad guys through the bad, you're getting my drift?'

'Uh-huh,' Lorne looked from door to door, every entrance looked the same.

'You're different. You have the master key if you like; every door is open to you. You can walk on through and spend a little time in a hell dimension, or you can get your ass home to earth. It's all available.'

'I can dimension hop?'

'More than that. You can move through each dimension at will.'

Lorne turned in a slow circle and took in the peace of the hall. 'Is that what happened when I came here just now.'

'Kind of, yeah, you didn't will it but Toby showed you, you could do it. I guess the PTB were starting to worry you'd never tap into these powers. But you got here on the same principle. You astro projected your ass. Look,' Gunn pointed at the pool. The dark fluid moved and undulated and an image appeared; Lorne sat motionless on a hard bed. 'You're still in Wolfram and Hart,' Gunn went on, 'Your body anyhow, but your spirit, Lorne that can end up any place you need it to be.'

'So I can jump around dimensions just by willing it, what can I use that for?'

Gunn shook his head sadly. 'Lorne you just don't see yet do you, but I guess that's why they chose you,' he laughed to himself and Lorne frowned in confusion. 'sit down,' Gunn motioned him to perch on the edge of the pool.

'Do you have any idea what's been handed to you?' he asked Lorne, 'This power, yeah you can jump dimensions, do you know how much damage someone could do with that if they wanted? They could open every one of these doors and mix the dimensions up bad. They could jeopardise the whole fabric of the universe, of time, of heaven and hell. You can see what's passed, what's still to come, you can talk to the dead and those who ain't living yet. It's all about balance, good and evil, seeing both sides of the coin. That's what you're good at. What's been given to you goes beyond magic, beyond power, and you must have done something pretty incredible to earn it.'

Lorne was gazing into the dark waters beside him. 'I don't know what, all I've done is struggle with everything, let people down, I ran away from the mission after Lindsay, I killed a human being… I'm just an ordinary kind of a guy who's made big mistakes, I didn't do anything to deserve this…' the waters twisted and moved before them and showed the images in turn. Memories and truths from Lorne's own mind; Lindsay's death and his long walk from the spot where the body lay, his time in Chicago, his journey with Sasha back to LA and the pain he had experienced in his bid to smash the mirror, the day Novica drained his soul, the day Sasha told him that she loved him, the long nights struggling with his conscience and his fears. And then the waters stopped at one image in particular.

'There it is,' Gunn said, and Lorne looked back at the water, 'he's the reason. You were so scared you had nothing to offer, you'd played all these roles, tried being a hero… with some success… but you never felt you fitted….it was him that tipped the balance. Convinced the powers that you're the one for the job.'

Lorne stretched out his hand over the image as if considering disturbing the water which held it. 'I failed him, he's dead.'

'Hey I'm dead and I ain't complaining,' Gunn said, kindness softening his voice. 'You used what you knew you could use, your psychic abilities, your empathy, and you rebuilt him. You reached out into the worlds and you found his soul, floating about in some half assed hell dimension that Novica created to house the Lost Ones.'

Lorne looked up and blinked.

'Yeah that's where they all went,' Gunn confirmed, 'The souls he took, they ended up somewhere empty, somewhere distant and lost, somewhere behind one of these doors,' he gestured behind them. 'And you never gave up, you kept looking for him and you brought him back, and all the others. Yeah, he died, but he isn't lost anymore, he's home with his mom and dad in his own corner of a dimension someplace. Toby is the reason you're here.'

Lorne shook his head at the water and at Gunn's words and he heard his friend sigh sadly.

'And that there, that regret in you that you didn't do more, that you lost just one of those souls, the girl Miranda, that's what makes you right for this Lorne. You won't ever get this wrong 'cos you ain't got it in you to do evil, you've had the chance long before now. Don't you see, you were crossing these dimensions, going through these doors long before today… searching for people, needing to help, never giving up…'

Gunn's voice was drifting, a faint echo as he slipped from this dimension to another. Lorne looked up at his friend and sensed him fading, his time up.

'You leaving me?' Lorne asked a hint of panic in his voice.

'Gotta run, bro,' the smile was bright and genuine, 'And you gotta get gone too. It's a gift Lorne, and they gave it to you because you know how to use it, deep down you know, use your _will_.'

'But there's so much I don't understand, how do I use it? How do I get out of here? You haven't answered that… Gunn?'

Gunn's figure flickered and faded from view.

'I believe in you, man,' he said.

-- --

Weird night. Very weird night. Spike swung a left and turned out of the alleyway behind Lorne's club. Shapeshifters and slayers, glamours, spells and the return from the dead of Mr 

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. He paused a beat to light his cigarette and then strode on his way with a shrug. Come to think of it, he'd had stranger nights back in Sunnydale, in Prague, in China to name but a few in his centuries long existence. This in context was only moderately weird.

A smile crept across his mouth despite himself. It was so good to see Wesley, there was no denying it, and Fred… well Fred was just beaming all over the shop. Good things happening at last, mostly good anyhow. Lorne seemed a bit shaken up by it all and he couldn't quite get used to that human gig he had going for him, judging by his girl neither could Sasha… maybe she'd stake a few vamps and feel better. Always made Buffy feel better… his mind wandered… bad Spike.

The shrill noise made him jump and it took him a moment to realise that it was coming from him. From inside his leather coat to be precise. He rummaged through the pockets, cigarettes, lighter, enchanted Kryol demon teeth, stake… cell phone. He held it up and peered at it. Why had he ever agreed to own one of these? He let it ring twice more before moving to flip up its top and answer; he didn't want to seem too keen.

'Yes?' he said nonchalantly and in reply the voice twittered through the phone and into the street around him, Spike looked around him absently and nonplussed. 'Yeah that's all very nice mate but you wouldn't believe what's been happening here tonight…' another pause while the voice confirmed that they would indeed believe it. 'How did you know… Oh figures I guess,' Spike conceded, 'You always have to be one bloody step ahead don't you? Some things never change. Anyway what…?' His face became serious and his voice dropped a tone or two. 'Oh… that soon? You're certain; you haven't got your mystical wotsits mixed up… Giles eh? Well I supposed he'd know… hey listen I hope you're not counting on me to be some sort of moving target…' he reached the end of the street and peered left and right, hanging on the speakers words before he made a decision as to which way to go. Spike grew silent and thoughtful as he absorbed the instructions.

'Yeah, no problem,' he said, 'I'll do it now.'

-- --

'The sensors have gone off the map,' Lindsay's voice said dimly from the depths of the glass, 'I've got the boys downstairs looking into it but they can't pinpoint exactly what's happening.'

'But why is he here?' Novica snapped. He swirled his drink in the martini glass and knocked it back hard. He was hunched at the back of the bar, leaning on the rear counter where Lorne mixed his cocktails. To his right a large pitcher of seabreeze and some discarded limes, lying battered and squeezed by the impatient Old One.

'We're attempting to find out,' Lindsay said, masking his irritation badly, 'all I know is he died in the big fight, just like me, and now he's back…'

'Just like you…'

'Yes,' the discontent brewed heavy in the lawyer's tone. 'Except he didn't have a contract.'

'Contract?'

'With the firm. Wolfram and Hart own my soul, that's why I'm back. Wesley died a big hero's death and should be pushing up daisies and cavorting on a cloud with his harp. He shouldn't be here getting in the way.'

'So someone must have wanted him back pretty desperately? The girl, Fred?'

'She doesn't have that kind of power. Not anymore. Not since Illyria was entombed. No this comes from somewhere higher. This smacks of the PTB. And when the PTB come to play things get messy.'

Novica turned absently and leant against the counter with his back to Lindsay's image. He rolled his eyes and sighed before absently reaching out and topping up his drink.

'You seem to be forgetting the important factor in all this,' he said in mock pleasantry, 'Me!'

'You're not my concern right now,' Lindsay said distractedly. 'The PTB are reassembling the team… Fred, Wesley, both living, both fighting the good fight. Spike back on their team after his brief sabbatical with you came to an end,' Novica flinched and Lindsay continued, 'Not one slayer but two right here in our midst. Lorne…'

'Lorne isn't an issue he's with you.'

'Yes that's my one consolation,' Lindsay said, 'but it's not a big one. I've got the karaoke king under lock and key while the city fills with more powerful beings…'

'They don't have power,' Novica scoffed, 'They are weak and human and so totally killable. I don't know why you're wasting our time, just take them out, stake the vampire and massacre the rest in their sleep, hell I'll do it for you, its not like I have anything better to do, I already got rid of the kid…'

'Yeah well that wasn't your best move.'

'There's no pleasing you is there!' Novica cried. He stepped out from behind the bar and crashed over to a seat.

'It made a mess I had to clear up,' Lindsay said curtly, 'You had no jurisdiction to go slaughtering innocent…'

Novica laughed sharply, 'Innocent? You never had an issue with it before.'

'I'm trying to protect your ass here, Novica, just remember you aren't so powerful yourself. It is the senior Partner's wish that you are in this dimension and don't you forget it. We can kick you back to hell at any time.'

Novica folded his arms and eyed the table before him, saying nothing. Lindsay had hit his mark. The silence of the club was interrupted only by the distant sounds of sirens and city life beyond its walls and the faint hum of the mirror imbued with magic.

'I don't like this,' Lindsay mused half to himself as Novica sulked. 'Lorne, Fred, Wesley, Spike, just a couple of team members still to come.' In his office he leaned back in his chair and gazed down at the desk before him. On the blotter he had written a single word, heavy dark calligraphy embellished with the detail of contemplation that comes from tracing the letters again and again. The manifestation of the word sent chills deep into his body, the chills of fear and of unsettled anger. Was this the PTB's master plan? Were they setting up shop for his return? He supposed it was inevitable that it should happen but he had pushed the confrontation from his mind. He bit his lip and let the pen trace one final time over the shapes he had written before it fell to the desk.

'Are you next?' he asked the room and the word on the blotter.

**ANGEL**

-- --

'Just concentrate on tuning into your environment, breathe with the wind and er… other deep sounding eastern philosophies…' His mind was only half on training; Wesley's eyes flitted over the inscriptions of each tomb as they passed. Just ahead of him Sasha moved through the cemetery with caution and reserved strength. Back on the job, leaving her emotions locked safely in the club with Lorne and their baby. She could think about it later; right now she was a slayer, right now she had other responsibilities and whatever game Lorne was playing under that glamour could wait.

She was aware of Lucy behind her, dressed more warmly now in some borrowed clothes, moving sullenly through the night trying to figure out just where she stood. She'd listened to her new watchers explanation of her new life with a mixture of awe and teenage incredulousness. But there was no denying what she had witnessed in the last forty-eight hours. The nightmares were real, and though she was tempted to run home and away from this madness she was quick to realise that home no longer existed. She'd seen it destroyed when that thing destroyed her dad. She'd felt this thing deep within her when she had woken from her injury and rushed to help them defeat the shapeshifter. No-one would believe her, no-one but these people. This band of weirdoes. Didn't mean she had to like it though. Didn't mean she had to spend tonight of all nights, after the day she'd had, poking around a graveyard looking for beasties and….

The vampire spun into their midst with such force that it knocked Lucy's thoughts clear from her head. Sasha was on it in moments, hauling him back from the startled young slayer and belting a sharp kick at its chest which sent it crashing back against tombstones and foliage. Wesley side stepped the creature's path and pressed a restraining hand against Lucy, moving her away from the fight.

'Just watch,' he said.

She couldn't help but do just that. The flow of Sasha's movements was hypnotic, she moved on instinct alone, blocking and retaliating with such ease that the pair moved in a sick dance towards the inevitable. She beat it back up against a set of worn stone steps and with a final sudden movement the thing was staked, the wood splintering against the crumbling wall of a crypt and the dust flying back into the slayer's face. Sasha turned to face them, wiping the muck across her cheek with the back of one hand.

'Wow,' Lucy breathed.

'Lesson one,' Welsey said, 'believe that you will be that good one day,'

Sasha smiled wanly and stepped down to join them.

'…and lesson two,' Wesley went on, 'everything happens for a reason.' He pointed up to the legend above the crypt.

_Saltarsam _

Sasha raised her eyebrows.

'OK Wesley, what's with this sudden urge to go training? First you pack Spike off for the night then you're all 'Ooo let's get with the Slaying' and now you're getting all excited over a crumbling grave. What's going on? Watchers don't just wander out this late at night on a whim. They stay at home with their tea and send_ us_ on patrol.'

'I work a little differently to the traditionalist… on the contrary I rather like a little skirmish or two... I was once a rogue demon hunter and…'

The two women looked at him in disbelief.

'And I rapidly grew out of that phase,' he concluded wryly. 'But you're right, this tomb is significant. There's something in here which is very powerful…' he began to move up the steps to the entrance, shielded in shadow, 'something which cannot fall into the wrong hands and something which can be used to change things for the better. I didn't get a free pass to come back here and be with Fred,' he went on, 'I have to do something in return for the PTB.' He laid a hand on the wrought iron gate to the crypt and swung it inwards, leading the girls into the tomb, feeling his way in the dark. 'It's a simple enough task but I believe it's important, they believe it's important and they know best.'

'So what's this thing we're looking for and what do we have to do with it?' Sasha brushed past him in the gloom, positioning herself instinctively in the centre of the crypt and listening for danger.

'An amulet,' she heard Wesley sweep a match along a box, it sparked but failed to light first time, 'guarded by the Saltarsam family and buried with them here. It was thought to be lost, as these things usually are, but I am reliably informed that it isn't, and it won't be long before someone finds it. The city is crawling with evildoers who want to continue the apocalypse we started and win.' He drew the match again and this time it took its light flickering against the dense darkness around them. Welsey moved to the Saltarsam family altar and lit a candle he found there. Sasha relaxed as she saw the place to be empty.

'Ah, here…' Wesley said, 'there's a trapdoor to the tomb below. Lucy?'

'What?' she blinked.

'Care to try out that new strength of yours.'

She looked at him like he was mad but stooped to lift the heavy panel. A startled smile of surprise passed over her lips as she succeeded and Sasha and Wesley exchanged glances. He handed Lucy the candle.

'After you…' Wesley said pointing down into the crypt.

-- --

He was alone, Gunn vanished, Toby returned to his parents, and yet Lorne could feel a dozen presences nearby. He looked about the hall and saw the faint traces of spirits, felt their auras, the majority peaceful and undisturbed, but one or two tormented. His eyes scanned the doors, his mind wondering which lead to earth, which to the frozen wastes of Novica's dimension, which to Pylea. He could visit any one, but he didn't know where to begin for the best. In the 

solitude of the hall Lorne looked at the dark pool beside him and listened to the silence of the Other World; his mind swimming with Gunn's words and the new role which had been revealed as his.

_Use my will,_ he thought and thought of Sasha. The pool before him didn't move. He thought of Aviline then and how vulnerable she was, sleeping oblivious in her crib while Novica moved freely around her. But still the pool remained motionless. Lorne closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. What did his will want him to do? He wanted to go home, to look after his family and friends, he wanted to make things right.

He looked back at the silent pool. 'Oh come on!' he said, 'What am I supposed to be doing huh? What am I supposed to want? I want my family, my _will_ is to help my family, to help Sasha and Aviline and to get Novica out of our home.'

_No…_ the pool breathed at him in sultry female tones. Lorne jumped.

'You talk now?'

He eyed it suspiciously. 'What do you mean 'no,' listen sugar, my will says I want to go home, my will says I want to get Novica out of there…'

_Not Novica…Not yet…_

Lorne frowned again. 'Not Novica? But I need to protect them…'

_Yes…_

'Oh so we're getting somewhere. You agree they need protecting… OK well I want to protect them so hows about you just project me over there and….'

The waters swirled in front of him and an image appeared. A silent darkened graveyard left in ruins from the apocalypse passed. Lorne narrowed his eyes and strained to see its significance. Just another LA cemetery, broken tombstones and raided crypts. Then as he watched he saw three figures wending their way through the debris. Two women, the first made his heart leap, flying forward and attacking a vampire as he observed; the second he felt little for knowing her as he had done for less than a day. The third figure a man, indistinct in the gloom. He followed as the three approached and entered a tomb, fumbling in the darkness for a match.

Instinctively Lorne leaned over the pool, so close he could smell the moisture of the dark waters and sense the pulse of the liquid. He leaned close, trying to make out the man's face and then light filled the crypt as the match struck. With a gasp he drew back from the pool and stared down in disbelief.

'Wesley?' Lorne asked the waters.

_Yes… Help Him… _

-- --

The appeal of Lorne's cocktails had dwindled and with a determined movement Novica had made his way to the stronger liquors behind the bar. It was with a combination of amusement and disgust that he found his body to be less responsive than before; the human sensation of drunkenness. How did they manage, a simple chemical compound and they were helpless, uncoordinated and nauseous. He slammed the shot glass down on the counter and grimaced at the taste.

And yet these humans were in control of him now, Lindsay was in control of him and loving every moment. Disregarding the respect Novica deserved and reminding him of his vulnerability. That hadn't been the deal. Novica ran his hand over his forehead and through his dark hair, his mouth twisting with revulsion at the feel of his own sweat. How long would Lindsay leave him here waiting? The fun had gone out of this game. Yes Lorne was incarcerated, but the pleasure he derived from that was short lived. He had stolen his life but it offered him nothing. A sudden taste of acid in his mouth and he swallowed hard, turning to spit away the taste to the floor.

'Eww,' Fred said lightly, though the distaste was evident in her tone, 'since when did you spit Lorne?'

'Since this liquor turned sour,' he grumbled.

'Oh well maybe a cocktail would be sweeter… how about you and me…'

'No,' he snapped. Fred's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat.

'Sorry,' she said. 'Hey um… are they back yet, it's getting late.'

'Does it look like they're back yet?' Novica said sarcastically, he fixed her with his dark eyes and made a sullen movement with his head.

'Um… no… but these things take time.'

'What things? Prancing around with two slayers, showing them the ropes, 'Oh Wesley you're so knowledgeable, I could learn so much, aren't you just the perfect British hero…''

Fred stared at him in anger. 'Lorne! They have to find the amulet, Wesley said it was part of the deal to let him come back, he has to destroy it…'

''Wesley said…' Great, is this what life is all about now, finding trinkets to smash and teaching little girls to beat up vampires?'

'It's a little more important than that, the Amulet of Hytor is…' Fred felt a sudden chill and she let the sentence fall away, 'Lorne you're acting really weird, are you OK?'

'I'm just fine… tweetypie,' he spat out viciously and his eyes flashed harshly in her direction before he looked back at the drink in his hand.

Fred's heart rate doubled at the venom in his voice. She looked at the half empty bottle of liquor and began to move from the bar. Whatever was eating Lorne she got the distinct impression she didn't want to be near him, which was weird in itself. Lorne wasn't scary. 

She'd seen him drunk before now, giggly and touchy feely on a good day, unhappy and tearful on a bad, but he'd been drunk on firewater, the demon equivalent of alcohol and…

Fred stopped by the door to the apartment. _Since when did alcohol get Lorne drunk?_ She suddenly felt as though a world had opened up between them and he seemed terribly far away. The glamour he wore only added to the effect. He didn't feel like Lorne and he didn't look like him, there was something wrong with that magic. Fred hesitated a moment longer, wondering if she should talk to him and find out what was happening, but at that moment his eyes rested on her again and she had to fight the urge not to run from the room. It was a familiar fear. Painfully familiar. There was a power here she almost recognised but she wanted badly to dismiss it. She muttered something about going to bed and slipped from the club, back to the warmth of the apartment upstairs and away from him. She'd talk to Wesley when he got back; if he didn't think she'd gone crazy.

Novica slugged back another shot and cursed, the colours and shapes of the club around him drifting and blurring. Damn this whole situation, damn this feeling of being trapped, this useless human body and that damned girl. She'd squeal now. Lorne was mean to me, what can be the matter? Just as soon as dear Wesley was back from his rambles then… a thought pierced through Novica's haze and raised his head in curiosity. Wesley's rambles, hunting for an amulet. Now why would he be hunting for that on his first night back when he had a fine little trinket of his very own waiting upstairs? Novica turned to the mirror.

'Hey Lindsay,' he said loudly, his words slurring. He banged on the mirror's surface until the image jerked into life. Lindsay glared back at him, disturbed from what little sleep he'd been getting after an evening of worry.

'What… do you want?' he glowered.

'You heard of something called the Amulet of Hytor? 'Cos that's what Dead Boy is looking for right now, now what do you say? Important?'

Lindsay's expression told him all he needed to know.

-- --

In the half darkness of the Saltarsamcrypt it was immediately obvious that something was awry. Wesley moved the light over the floor and walls, taking in the shattered sarcophagus and brutalised ornamentation. His face was grim.

'This wasn't the plan,' he muttered, 'this place has been wrecked,' he stooped and gathered dust on a fingertip from a broken chalice, 'and for a time too, this wasn't done overnight. I don't understand. The powers sent me to find and destroy the amulet and it's been missing for days. So why send me now.'

'Can we leave?' Lucy said, 'it's creepy.'

'Get used to it, we spend half our lives in crypts,' Sasha said bitterly. 'Are you sure its gone?'

Wesley's blue eyes glittered in the torch light, he nodded towards the sarcophagus. 'the 

amulet was buried with Theodore Saltarsam, you see anything in there? They'll have taken it and anything else of worth.'

Sasha crunched across the floor to the broken coffin and peered inside. 'No amulet,' she confirmed, 'and no bones either.'

'Eww they took his bones?' Lucy said.

Wesley made a despairing noise, 'I think we're standing on his bones.' Lucy jumped and the resulting crackling noise under her feet confirmed that the brittle relics had indeed been mashed to the ground by whoever had raided the tomb.

'That's it I'm leaving, now,' Lucy moved quickly and was through the trapdoor before Wesley had time to comment. He motioned to Sasha, 'follow her, make sure she's safe, I'll take another look around… for clues.'

'Sure,' Sasha moved to follow the younger slayer, 'Wesley, what's so important about this amulet and why now?'

'Good question,' he replied, scanning the debris for evidence, 'On a day to day basis, its relatively worthless, some vague healing properties and the ability to extend the life of the wearer, Theodore there was over a hundred when he died.'

'Sounds like a reason someone would want it,'

'Not in this instance,' Wesley remarked, 'it comes with a curse too as these things are wont to do. You see Theodore was the last of his line, isolated and tortured; haunted by the visions the amulet gave him.'

'So you get longer life but nightmares with it.'

'Yes, but he guarded it nonetheless, aware that if it fell into the wrong hands it could prove dangerous.'

Sasha hovered, certain there was more. Wesley dragged his foot through the dust and clutter, disturbing the shattered bones one last time before turning to face the curious slayer.

'As I say, on a day to day basis there's not much to be gained from this thing, but under certain circumstances, certain planetary alignments, the correct mystical conditions and rituals it… of course!' Wesley exclaimed, 'the planets must be aligning, it must be soon.'

'What must be soon? What does this thing do?'

Wesley looked suddenly serious, his jaw set as the thrill of his realisation passed. 'Once a millennium it lends power to the wearer beyond ordinary magics, lasting powers which could be used for bad or evil equally.'

'What kind of powers?' Sasha said softly.

'It transforms the bearer,' he said, 'Into a God.'

-- --

_Help him, _the pool repeated.

'How?' Lorne said exasperated, 'he's there and I'm here and I don't know how to get _there_.'

The waters lapped impatiently at the marble edge of the pool, sliding back and forth, almost climbing the rim and slipping wetly over the smooth surface.

'What do I do? Wish upon a star? Click my heels together?' Lorne watched as Sasha quit the crypt, leaving Wesley alone and clouded in his reasoning.

_Enough time wasted, _the pool chided, _you have heard the tale, you must seek the amulet, guide him, warn him._

'Warn him of what? He knows doesn't he? He's looking for it. He knows what it does?'

The pool's waters surged angrily, _he knows not of this,_ and the image switched to that of Novica, his face rapt as he conversed with Lindsay in the mirror behind the bar.

Lorne's face froze. 'He doesn't… he wouldn't… No… no… he can't…'

_But he will. Go… Lorne… Now!_

The waters heaved and with a sudden lurch a jet of midnight darkness swirled forth and wrapped itself tight around Lorne's wrist, the urgency of its movement pulling him from his uncertainty and confusion. He suddenly saw clearly what he must do and his face focussed again. Lorne closed his eyes and used the fear he felt within to power him, immediately certain that this was the key to his gift and the waters let go. In that instant a sensation of force ran through him, force and heat, a power within which blasted outwards and threatened to shatter him. It was different to what he had felt with Toby, when they had travelled it had been smooth and bright, here it burned. In his mind he felt fire and flame, on his skin he felt the prickle of heat and then with a jolt he reopened his eyes and found himself within the crypt, within the very scene he had seen in the pool.

'Wesley!' he called.

-- --

'A god,' Novica repeated, half to himself. Lindsay's explanation of the amulet's powers hung heavy in the air of the club.

Lindsay's voice spilled harshly from the mirror. 'Whatever you are thinking, don't,' he warned, 'you are out of your league Novica, you're human now, vulnerable, you don't have the power or the resources to do this. Leave this to me, leave it to the company, if you blow your cover now…'

'I could be restored,' Novica said, the haze of drunkenness clearing with adrenaline.

'No, not this way, we had a deal, if you…'

Novica waved the image away and the mirror fell silent.

'I could be restored,' he said again. 'And if you believe that I trust you with my destiny Lindsay, then its time to rethink.' He looked up at his own reflection and saw the hunger return to his deep brown eyes. 'This is my destiny, not yours, and I could reign again.'

-- --

Wesley spun and had the crossbow levelled at Lorne's form before the demon could utter another word.

'Lorne?' He squinted into the darkness of rear of the tomb where the figure stood composedly.

'The same amigo, care to lower that you'll have my eye out.'

Wesley let the crossbow swing to his side. 'How in God's name did you get over there. I thought you were at the club?'

'Really not,' Lorne stepped forward out of the shadows of the crypt and it was then that Wesley drew breath sharply and edged backward. At first Lorne seemed confused at his reaction but after a beat he looked own at his own body and recognised the translucency of a phantom in his limbs. 'Wow,' he breathed, 'I went all floaty.'

'Oh my god…' Wesley stuttered, 'What's happened to you? You're… Christ Lorne…'

'It's a long story, only part of which I feel like imparting right now,' Lorne said feebly.

'I… My god… are you… you know… dead?' Wesley goggled at him.

'No, but aren't you?' Lorne replied. His gaze softened as he faced Wesley for the first time. He was really alive and it was incredible to see.

'Not anymore apparently,' Wesley said, 'I told you earlier, the PTB have…'

Lorne cut him off sharply as Wesley's words reminded him of the danger at hand. 'You didn't tell me earlier Wesley, that's what I'm here to say, that thing in the club, that isn't me, its isn't even my glamour, it's…'

A movement from above and Sasha dropped to the floor of the tomb with a slight pop. Lorne's insides flipped over. Although he had watched her in Lindsay's mirror he hadn't witnessed close up the effects of Novica's cruel trick. She looked distant and hard, focusing on the job at hand in the way he knew she would, but empty within. Her eyes seemed hollow and in the gloom of the crypt shadows danced around them so that their colour eluded him. He reached out and felt of her aura, hunting for the delicate hues which warmed him and found instead broken lines of crackling light. For a moment he was shocked into stillness and sadness fell softly over his face like water. What had he done to her? His mind nudged at him painfully. What had he done? Not Novica, but Lorne, what had he allowed to happen?

'Find anything?' she addressed Wesley lightly and crossed the floor towards him. For a second he looked between her and Lorne and then slow realisation dawned. She couldn't see him, she couldn't see Lorne. What kind of illusion was he? Was this some sort of magic, a trick to guard this tomb? He looked again at Sasha, surely she could sense it.

'Well… I…' he gestured weakly towards Lorne's phantom.

'What?' Sasha stepped towards the demon in oblivion, 'You pick up any clues? 'Cos it's starting to rain out there and we kinda want to go home…' And then it happened. In a flowing movement she bent to look among the debris, her face passing through Lorne's midriff as she stooped. He yelped and sprang to one side.

'She can't see me?' he waved at Wesley, his arms gesticulating wildly. 'She's just bent right through my belly!'

Wesley seemed as baffled as ever, but a faint amusement surfacing at Lorne's dramatic antics. This had to be Lorne; no spell could imitate him so accurately. No there must be a deeper reason why only he could see him. If he could just figure out what.

'Sasha, I think there's something you should know,' Wesley began, 'And frankly I need to share it because things are getting just a little too odd for me here…'

Sasha stood and faced him, an expression of curiosity mingled with impatience on her features.

'I'm not entirely sure what's going on but about a minute or so ago, well…' He looked at Lorne. Sasha looked at the space Lorne occupied and saw nothing, she looked back at Wesley.

'Go on,' Lorne encouraged his friend; he made a shooing motion and nodded. As he moved Wesley noticed the faint shimmer of light around him and glanced down at his hands. Was that a symbol on the backs of them? Wesley cocked his head and tried to peer closer, a rune or a hieroglyph, it looked vaguely like the symbol for 'travel' or 'path,' but Lorne flapped him away urging him towards Sasha, 'Go _on_' he repeated.

'Ok ok, I just don't know quite how to put it, I mean what are you, a ghost?'

Sasha's eyes widened dubiously. 'Who are you talking to?'

'Um…'

The feeling hit Lorne like a wave of nausea shortly followed by pain. It was as though someone had grasped him hard around the middle and squeezed. He gasped and Wesley's half formed explanations came to a halt. He started as Lorne doubled over and fell before him, his form flickering and shifting and his words indistinct.

'What's… happening…?' he struggled to speak.

'Lorne!' Wesley rushed forward but halted just out of reach unsure what to do. Sasha froze 

behind him.

'Lorne?' she queried, her voice quiet as Wesley's form panicked in front of her. 'Lorne?' A vision of their lovemaking flashed before her and she felt cold. She grit her teeth against the weakness within and looked back to where Wesley was standing, worry crossing his features and his muscles tense.

Lorne groaned again as the sensation grew stronger. He felt as though he was choking. Gunn didn't warn him abut this aspect of things. His mind churned hard with a dozen thoughts and he suddenly became certain that he had only moments to warn Wesley of the danger they were all in. Struggling to draw a final breath he spat out the words half formed.

'The amulet… Novica wants it… it's him… at the club… Sasha… tell her it was...'

The world went black and then a searing light jolted him into alert. He felt another blow to his gut and then Lindsay swung the light out of his captive's face and glared down at him.

'Wakey wakey, Jesus you're hard to get up in the morning,' he mocked, 'good dream or bad?' Lorne blinked and clamoured to ascertain where he was. The hard lines of his bare room formed around him and he found himself bound again to a hard chair. He was once more in Wolfram and Hart. He felt the solid punch to his jaw and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, reality hitting full force and ugly.

Had he told Wesley enough?

-- --

Wesley crashed into the club crossbow at his shoulder, his half completed explanations to the slayers trailing after him. They soon followed, flanking him and readying themselves for attack.

'Fred!' Wesley called, 'Fred are you here?'

Movement from the doorway and she emerged from the apartment with Aviline in her arms.

'Fred,' the relief washed over Wesley like sunlight, 'Thank god, I was so afraid you'd be hurt. You're not going to take this in, but there's something going very badly wrong here tonight. Lorne's not wearing a glamour, it's not him… it's…'

'Novica,' she replied, 'I know already. I was going to tell you that, but you saved me the trouble. He's gone, he went about an hour ago, I was listening to him from upstairs. He was talking, I don't know if it was to himself or someone else, he wasn't very coherent, and then he left. He's gone after the amulet… did you find it?' she looked at him hopefully.

'No… no we didn't... it was gone when we got there… I don't think it was him I think someone got there before…' Wesley scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. 'So he's gone…'

'I didn't want to try and stop him,' Fred said guiltily, 'I wasn't sure what he'd do…'

'It's fine Fred, you did right, you kept Aviline safe, and you,' Sasha moved impatiently behind Wesley.

'We need to know more, I need books…' he said.

'Upstairs,' Fred said, 'I'll get them.'

'Thanks,' Wesley moved to the nearest table and sat down heavily. 'Wait… Fred… How did you know it wasn't Lorne?'

'Lorne doesn't spit,' she shrugged. The group looked at her amazed and she bit back an embarrassed giggle. 'Well…OK… that and deceitful magics don't work on a girl who shared space with Illyria, I'm kind of immune to the Old Ones.'

-- --

Lindsay stepped back and watched Lorne reel. The blood seemed unnaturally crimson on the green skin and it served only to heighten the lawyer's sense that this creature was precisely what he seemed to be, a demon. Soul or not if you were to unravel his DNA, if he even had DNA, you would find nothing but the blueprint for a creature from another plane of being. Lorne didn't belong to this dimension, and it made him easier to brutalise.

Finally he was beginning to focus and with a struggle Lorne lifted his head to watch his captor. His red eyes seemed to glow darkly in the dim light of the room and it unnerved Lindsay a little, casting his mind back to the day he had been shot. He'd looked into those eyes then and seen a steely determination he hadn't expected of the Pylean. Damn Lorne was so unpredictable; but deep down it was at moments like these that he realised what Lorne had offered to the Team who had caused so much havoc wrecking the Black Thorn. Lorne was no longer the fluffy little karaoke club owner; just as his colour reminded Lindsay of his origins, the grit he showed him now reminded him of his strength and loyalty to the Mission. In so many ways, this thing in front of him, with his leaf shade of dappled skin and alien features, had something within more intrinsically human than Lindsay's soulless being would ever find.

In his the chair Lorne's eyes narrowed. Lindsay's aura had been unreadable since his return and now there was just a flicker of… of what… he cocked his head and chewed gently on his bust lower lip, the pain focussing him and the taste of his own blood a reminder of the laws of mortality. Laws Lindsay's existence flouted. The lawyer's aura flickered again and died away. He was back in control.

'Before you get too comfortable,' Lindsay said to cover his unease, 'I've got a few questions to ask you. Seems there's been a little mystical activity at your club, and I'm not talking about our mutual friend Novica,' he smiled thinly, 'I'm talking about Wesley.'

Lorne said nothing, his brow heavy and his eyes unyielding and Lindsay was forced to turn away. There was something uncanny in those eyes that he'd never seen before. He busied himself with some papers, the eternal refuge of the lawyer but he felt… disturbed. He swallowed hard and straightened his shoulders, addressing the walls as he paced.

'I want to know what's happening. I want to know everything you do. I want to know about Wesley, and how the girl Fred is no longer entangled with the Old One, Illyria. I want to know how the PTB communicate with you. I want to know where your weaknesses lie and I want to know about Angel.' Lorne raised his eyebrows at the name.

'Angel?' he queried.

'Where he is, what he's doing, if he has any plans to come back.' Still he couldn't look at Lorne whose presence seemed heavier by the moment.

'I kinda doubt it,' Lorne said curtly. Hi attention shifted from Lindsay's elusive aura to his own. Somewhere inside him he could feel that burning again, the same sensation he had felt when he had astro-projected to the crypt. Except it didn't seem as though he was about to flit off anywhere distant. Instead the sensation moved like lava up through his chest and settled like a weight on his shoulders before sliding down his arms. As Lindsay paced the small room Lorne looked down to the bindings around his wrists and to his hands beyond. A faint hieroglyph marked the back of each and as he watched it turned the crimson colour of his lips. The heat built until he was sure he'd blister and each step Lindsay took in his movement around the room only served to peak Lorne's senses. He suddenly recognised the feeling. Rage. Injustice. The need to set things right, reorder things the way they should be. And the primal urge to protect what he loved. His Will.

'You're going to talk to me Lorne,' Lindsay said sharply, his voice cutting through Lorne's internal dialogue. 'You're going to tell me everything or I'll devise tortures you've never even heard of…' Lindsay turned, finally strong enough to face him again and immediately Froze at what he saw, '…and you're going to start now…' he ended softly in confusion.

'Am I?' Lorne said from behind him.

Lindsay spun to face the phantom and Lorne walked straight through him.

-- --

If he had his powers he could just home in on the Amulet and have it in his hand before these dull human eyes could blink. He'd have resources and minions and things to do his godly bidding. Novica trudged through the cemetery and tried to think logically about his predicament. He needed the Amulet, he needed to regain his power and reign as a god once more. That was clear. That the amulet was hidden in a graveyard was an almost certain bet given the relative probability of someone burying a sacred relic in a tomb. Didn't they always? But there were dozens of cemeteries to scour and he was beginning to recognise the restraints of time and the human body. A heaviness fell over his limbs and the faint traces of early hangover clouded his mind. He thought of Lindsay and how smug he would look right now if he could see him. He was pained to admit it but he really was at the mercy of his lawyer.

Movement amongst the tombstones, movement and a shock of bleach blonde hair. Spike. A former minion no less.

Novica hovered behind a crypt and watched as the vampire flitted between the graves and 

disappeared inside a tomb. If only he hadn't gone back to the other side. He could do with a little solidarity with some equally evil creature and Spike had only ever been too willing until he'd gone and got his lousy soul back. Oh what Novica would give to be draining a soul right now. He shuffled on the spot and wrapped his arms around his cold flesh. Oh it was so depressing; to be cold and hung-over and tired. He absently wandered towards Spike's tomb and decided to risk it. He might know something useful after all and…

'Hey cutie…' Novica turned and spotted the girl between the headstones. She was dressed almost as skimpily as him for the cool night air. 'Fancy spending a little time with me?' she leered at him hungrily.

'You know what?' he said curtly, 'Not a good day, so if you don't mind why don't you just…'

She threw herself at him before he could get his paltry human limbs to respond, knocking him back painfully against one tomb and rolling him hard onto another. He felt something give in his back and wrestled with her weakly as she held him tightly to the ground. The vampire's faced changed into the brutal guise of the hunter and with a lunging motion she sank her teeth into his neck, her bloodlust driving her forwards as her hips rocked against his with each pulse.

'Oh crap,' he whispered.

-- --

'Here…' Wesley said in his best eureka voice, 'Hierogylphs, just as I thought, the symbol for 'travel' or 'path,'' he beamed around the table at Fred, Sasha and Lucy. They looked back blankly.

'Which symbolises…' Fred prompted.

'Oh yes… sorry,' Wesley looked back to the text and began reading, 'The hieroglyphs have often been associated with the mythology surrounding the walker of worlds, the supposed guardian of the Greater Hall who alone may access dimensions unreachable by ordinary spirit guides. In this way the Walker is neither a force of good nor evil but relies solely upon his own soul's judgement. He is the shepherd of stray beings who falsely cross the divide to dimensions and may guide those who are lost to the place they belong. As such it is a position coveted by many but exclusive to but one being from each generation. How the Walker is chosen and anointed is unclear but it is thought that those who have previously demonstrated the ability to cross the dimensional barriers on selfless missions may lend themselves to the position…'

'Previous experience required,' Sasha said quietly.

'It all makes sense,' Wesley said.

'It does?' Fred queried, 'Because I'm not getting it. Hands up who else isn't getting it.' Lucy raised her hand but Sasha remained motionless between them, it hadn't been Lorne. She had ended up in bed with Novica and the worthlessness she had felt had been his. It hadn't been 

Lorne. She should be glad… she should have trusted Lorne would never feel that way and that what they had _was _special… so why did she still feel so… empty.

Wesley bowed his head again and read on.

'The Walker's living body may not cross into the dimensions and as a result all travelling between the worlds must be performed on the basis of astro projection. In his phantom form the Walker may appear to any individual on the proviso that they are on a plane of being that is before or after life. On rare occasions the Walker may converse with those close to death as part of his task in leading them to their final resting place… that's why you couldn't see him Sasha, ' Wesley said, ' Lorne can only appear to the dead or unborn, those who aren't on a living plane or who have experienced death.'

'Great I have to wait until I die to see my boyfriend.' Sasha closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. Why couldn't she see him now, if she could just see him then maybe she wouldn't feel this way. Novica's face floated in to her memory, his human face, his body lean and strong against hers, inside of her; she jerked her eyes open again. She had wanted him.

'No, no… wait,' Wesley was saying, ''The Walker's living body may not cross into the dimensions….' which means that his body is still in our dimension.'

'So where is he?' Lucy asked.

'Wesley,' Fred's voice grew concerned, 'Does the text mention anything about him being you know…immortal… impervious to harm… anything like that?'

'Um… no…' Welsey's brow furrowed. 'It recounts the powers the Walker holds in astral form but….Ah… his body remains vulnerable, he is essentially a mortal being.'

'Does _he_ know that?' Lucy asked.

'I… I don't know…' Wesley stammered, 'You don't think he's somewhere dangerous do you? But if Novica's here then…'

'We have to find Lorne,' Fred said.

-- --

He was dimly aware of the stone beneath him and of the pleasant scent of burning tapers. He opened his eyes slowly and gazed at the heavy ornate roof of the crypt.

'Didn't think you were going to make it mate,' Spike's voice drifted over to him, 'Must be the demon in you, don't think she took enough to do you any lasting damage. Amazed that glamour of yours has lasted though, must be bloody good magic, where'd you say you picked that up? Those Fury tarts wasn't it? Have to say I don't think it suits you, very attractive and everything but you've been acting kind of weird of late and now you're out on an impromptu patrol of the cemetery. Not good Lorne, stick to the bar you were never much use in a fight as you've just proved. Here you ready to sit up?' Spike's arm pushed roughly under Novica's shoulders and drew him upright. He automatically grasped at his head and groaned.

'I'm not dead then,' he asked.

'No, not dead,' Spike left him and tapped his way across the stone floor to some sort of make shift kitchen area. 'Just a bit hungover and er… bloodless.'

'And not a vampire?'

'Nope she didn't turn you, I dragged her off before she could. Think she would have though… think she quite fancied you. Should have seen what she was doing to your… anyway... Now that would be weird… half Pylean half vampire with a magical human glamour. That would have to be a first right? I don't know if it'd even be possible to…' Spike's voice rumbled on flying off at tangents and cracking jokes.

A Vampire. He'd just been got by a pathetic vampire. He couldn't even defend himself against one of those. Novica's head pounded as he eased himself forward on the sarcophagus lid. Maybe he should have been turned. It'd lend him strength and a certain immortality. He could do with that in the short term. He could still find one to turn him, shouldn't be that hard, find the cash and head to the nearest vamp brothel and he could be undead in a few hours. It had to be better than this. A step up the evolutionary ladder at any rate. And then maybe he would be able to stand up for himself instead of relying on his former oblivious minion to tend his wounds; maybe then he could actually find this damned…

'…. So I said to him, you know, 'I'm a busy man, if you want this thing looking after then you need to get your arse down here and do it yourself, what with it being so close to the time of the ritual and all…' Spike was still talking. It hurt Novica's head but something forced him to listen.

'I had to clear my diary for next Tuesday. But no he's never been one for rushing things, what with the brooding and the moping about, so it turns out that muggins here has the bloody trinket until the PTB work out what they want doing with it. They do that…' he paused, 'I had this other trinket that brought sunlight to an underground cavern full of vamps…' he paused again, 'But then I caught fire and died. Again.'

Spike eyed the object in his hand with suspicion. 'Hope that's not why he wants me to have it, he did that the last time and I got toasted. The sneaky git. If he thinks my arse is going to get fried again he can forget it. Anyway, call me clever but I think Wesley might have something to do with this, I think he's the key, him appearing like that, being the brains of the operation.' He sighed, 'He used to be such a tosser…. But he improved, so I'm going to take it round to him later and ask his opinion…' he turned and brandished the ornate pendant at Novica.

'I'll ask yours in the meantime, what do you think? Came up nice with a bit of polish all things considered,' he breathed on it and rubbed it on his T-shirt and as he did so a faint green glow emanated from the emerald encrusted Amulet. 'Dug it up last week when I first got word from the Boss, I'd have let you guys know but you weren't er… well I wasn't your most popular bunny after that business at the church with the zombies, was I? That's past though, we're all on the same side, so let me introduce you to the Amulet of Hytor.' He let it swing back and forth in the candlelight. 'Isn't it nifty? Apparently it turns people into Gods.'

For a second the reflection in Novica's dark eyes flashed green.

'Neat,' he agreed.


	12. Chapter 12 : Bring Me a Dream

'_You're going to tell me everything…' Lindsay turned, and immediately froze at what he saw, '…and you're going to start now…' he ended softly in confusion._

'_Am I?' Lorne said from behind him. Lindsay spun to face the phantom and Lorne walked straight through him._

_-- --_

'…_so let me introduce you to the Amulet of Hytor.' Spike let it swing back and forth in the candlelight. 'Isn't it nifty? Apparently it turns people into Gods.'_

_For a second the reflection in Novica's dark eyes flashed green._

'_Neat,' he agreed._

-- --

At first glance the crypt was quiet but un-deserted. In fact it could almost be deemed homely. The remnants of a recent meal littered a battered coffee table and a television flickered quietly in the corner. Candlelight warmed the atmosphere and fended off shadows. The silence came from the death like sleep of the vampire who lay draped across a moth eaten couch, half finished glass of blood tilting precariously in one cold hand, his chest motionless as the breath he feigned in waking hours halted in his dreams.

Novica eased himself from his armchair and softly moved to the side of the couch, his head cocked to one side, half listening, half observing the sleeping demon. Strange how sleep reduces all to their basic form, all pretences gone. Spike looked almost vulnerable lay there, if he so wished Novica could take him out then and there even in his weakened human body. Instead he leaned forward until his breath flickered across the vampire's face and with a slow deliberate action reached down under the lifeless body. The damn thing had slithered off his stomach and fallen behind him. Novica cursed and worked his hand around the body. Spike shifted and mumbled in his sleep, the first sign of life Novica had noticed in the previous twenty minutes; the agonising wait while the vampire had dropped off, aided by large quantities of alcohol in his blood. Now the Old One edged his hand further behind him and deeper into the couch, his fingers hunting for and grasping the cool object he found between the cushions. His discovery registered brightly on his face and then with aching stealth he withdrew the amulet and held it high in the candlelight.

'Gotcha,' he whispered and the looked sharply at Spike who remained still. Novica allowed the dark green stone to spin slowly in the stale air of the crypt and then with a motion of ceremony lifted its chain above his head and let it lie around his neck, the jewel glinting at his chest. He closed his eyes briefly, waiting, but the Amulet lay mute against his skin.

So the getting it part was easy, the keeping it part might be tricky. Novica opened his eyes again and slumped a little. He had a ritual to perform and he had to make it to Tuesday before he could perform it. Other than keep Spike permanently drunk, a possibility to be sure, he had to find somewhere to hang out away from Team Lorne and that idiot Lindsay long enough to get his act together. But it was just a couple of days right, a couple more days in this pathetic human form and then… his face broke into a wide smile… well then everything would be different. Then he'd go looking for _them._

Novica moved casually towards the crypt entrance, taking a final gulp of wine and a handful of peanuts as he passed the table. He hesitated by the door and eyed Spike's Italian leather 

coat which dangled from a rusted hook, he'd been so damned cold earlier out in the cemetery and he'd looked so damned fine the last time he'd 'borrowed' it. Looking back at the vampire Novica slipped his hand under the soft collar and let the laughter play in his eyes. Spike would be _so _pissed if he was to… he lifted the coat and swung it around his shoulders, savouring the weight of it and noticing how well his shoulders filled the material. Spike's precious coat. First it gets shredded and now it gets stolen from right under his nose. Again.

He shrugged and opened the door, slipping out into the night under the cover of darkness and black leather. Well, he was evil after all.

-- --

Lindsay looked sharply between the phantom Lorne and the Lorne who remained bound to his chair for interrogation. His body slumped softly motionless and his eyes were closed.

'What the hell?'

'New trick I picked up,' Phantom Lorne moved slowly around him, he didn't much wish to pass through the lawyer's body again, it had left his spirit cold and he grimaced at the prickling sensation which covered his astral-skin.

'I don't know what you think you're playing at but you'd better…' Lindsay was caught off guard and stumbling for action. He moved to the door, deciding to cut his loses and called for help.

'Wouldn't do that if I were you,' Lorne said sweetly, 'unless you want to look crazier than you already do… no-one else can see me…'

Lindsay ignored him and hauled open the door, his breath already in his throat to call for help. Whatever magic this was he'd have a shaman down here undoing Lorne's pesky little spell as quickly as…

The door flew open with a gust of wind and Lindsay let out an unmanly shriek. Beyond the room there was a wasteland of nothing, bitter cold and empty, a swirling wind clouding crimson skies. His palm still on the handle Lindsay turned and glared at Lorne's ethereal form, the room around them as solidly Wolfram and Hart as ever, but the howling abyss of the hell dimension pulsing outside.

'You explain… right now..' Lindsay growled. 'I don't care if you cast illusions or play tricks, you're not going to put me off the scent, you tell me everything you know, about Novica, about Angel, everything, you hear me?!'

The wind beyond stepped up a notch.

'Little tricky to talk over this gale,' Lorne said lightly. He raised a finger and the door slammed shut wrenching itself from Lindsay's grip. Silence prevailed again over the room. Curiously Lindsay's hand ran along the edge of the door and he cautiously levered it open again, bracing himself for the gust which would drag it from his fingers. The corridor outside bustled with lawyers and employees and he let it swing back into its frame. He felt the sweat on his forehead and wiped roughly at it with the back of one expensive sleeve.

Lorne chuckled softly and perched beside his unconscious form, his eyes running over his own features with mild interest. He held out an arm and waved it through his own torso, noticing the difference here from Lindsay's cold and empty shell. Here there was warmth, a feel of not unsurprising familiarity and a taste of something rich and sweet. 'Huh,' Lorne mused. 'I taste of muffins.'

Lindsay moved by the door and the demon roused from his reverie.

'I'm assuming if I make a move you'll cast that spell thing again.' Lindsay said sullenly.

'Not really a spell thing, more of a dimensional vortex and totally real. But yeah if you try and make a run for it I'll just whack it back out there to swallow you up,' Lorne grinned brightly. 'I'm loving this gig, have I mentioned that?'

'What gig would that be?' his voice was low and wary.

'Well, now I'm not one hundred percent sure of all the details as yet,' Lorne admitted, 'But I'm picking it up. Say do you want to untie lil'ol' me here,' he pointed at his body.

'Not really.'

'Oh,' Lorne let the 'o' rest on his lips for a second. 'Well OK I guess, technically he… I… can't come with us anyway.'

'Come with us where, where the hell do you think I'm going with you?'

Lorne chuckled again, ''Where the hell?' I like that… I see what you did there…'

Lindsay advanced suddenly until he glared threateningly into Lorne's face.

'Enough games, what is going on?'

Lorne let a beat pass and then another, a softness moving into his eyes as he let his mind run over Lindsay's aura. He'd been as human and ensouled as anyone once and now he was empty, a puppet for Wolfram and Hart, his soul a bartering tool for the senior partners. Lorne had never taken the time to see past all the evil before, at the destinies written in Lindsay's voice, but he supposed that to see all within a person was part of his new job: to be absolutely objective and to weigh up the good with the bad. And yeah the bad still won in this case, but he could see right back into Lindsay's memories and the boy he'd once been. That tugged at his heart, when he knew instinctively what he must do now.

'I'm sorry,' Lorne said, 'but you don't belong here.'

Lindsay's eyes filled with fear as they connected with Lorne's but he was frozen with confusion when the demon's hand reached forward and grasped him lightly on the shoulder. Instead of passing through his solid flesh the phantom's finger held their grip and as Lindsay looked desperately from Lorne's hand to his eyes he saw their colours change with the light of the room and then the room was gone.

-- --

'Graveyard, always a good place to start the search,' Wesley pushed open the gate and crunched along the gravel path.

'As Lorne orientated hang outs go, I don't think this is one of his top choices,' Fred said gently.

'No but it's one of Spike's,' Sasha brought up the rear, axe jauntily over one shoulder but her step trudging as she moved, her mind flickered between slayer focus and a troubled heart.

'Again Spike and Lorne, not a likely couple…'

'He can smell him,' Wesley said, 'It's always good to have a vampire on the team, and right now we have to settle for Spike.'

'So that's the plan?' Fred queried, 'We get Spike to sniff him out?'

'It's all a help.'

'I still think we should have brought Lucy, an extra slayer on hand is…'

'No, she's needed at the club, someone has to watch Aviline and after what happened last time, no offence Fred but it has to be someone who can protect her physically, just in case… we can't risk it. Besides,' he hesitated as Fred bristled at the implication, 'I don't want you out of my sight.' He smiled bashfully and the sight of his affection jolted Sasha to the core.

Fred caught his eye in the moonlight and they joined hands briefly before returning to the search. The pair moved off amongst the crypts and Sasha dallied behind, her mind only on half the job. Fred's words ran through her mind altering and shifting with each step. 'Spike and Lorne, not a likely couple.' Unlikely couple. Couples. Sasha and Lorne were a couple. At least she thought they were. So why did she see _him_ in her mind, Novica? Why was she still tingling from his touch, from the rich fear she had experienced beneath him. Why was that sensation so predominant, so exciting, when she loved Lorne so much? Wesley's voice drifted over the tombs and forced attention.

'So Novica appears from nowhere…' he was musing, 'A weird happening given the circumstances. So one has to ask oneself, what usually is behind weird happenings in this town? What has the power to drag an Old One out of a hell dimension and set it loose on the world…'

Fred went grey.

'It has to be,' Wesley said, 'At the very least a starting point. I say we pick up Spike and head over there.'

'We're not exactly equipped to take on Wolfram and Hart,' Sasha said, 'Not now they're back at full rebuilt power.'

'Umm… guys…' Fred said softly, 'I think we've bigger things to worry about right now…' she pointed to the far end of the cemetery where two shapes could be seen moving at speed towards them. 'Bigger kinda hairier demon shaped things…'

-- --

The vast Greater Hall surrounded them now and as its shapes became solid Lorne released his charge. Lindsay stood dazed by the pool, his eyes roaming surreptitiously around the Hall, nervous and unsure.

'You're perfectly safe; this is kinda the half way stop. Nothing will happen to you here.'

'Half way between what and what?' Lindsay asked keeping his voice low, the echo from the Hall alarming him. He could sense a thousand unseen presences in its vastness.

Lorne sighed. 'Between the dimension we just left and the one you belong in. You're in the wrong place, Lindsay, and it's my task to sort that out for the greater good. Wolfram and Hart bent the law of the universe to return you to earth, but that isn't your destiny.'

'No, it's my job,' Lindsay said, 'It's a contract.'

'Well this is my job, and for what it's worth that contract means nothing,' Lorne dismissed.

'Wolfram and Hart used powerful magics and tradeoffs to get me back, you really think you can just magic me someplace else and they won't try and stop you? You can't defeat them, if they want something they'll get it, they're as old as Time…'

Lorne watched him sweetly until he had exhausted his argument and seated himself on the edge of the pool. The liquid swirled in welcome and he smiled down into it in acknowledgement. He felt a soft purr from the water and returned his gaze to address Lindsay.

'You think this isn't? As old as time?' he gestured to the Hall and the sense of power it contained. 'Wolfram and Hart are evil, like you say, and old. But this place is _older_; this place doesn't care about good and evil, it's beyond that, it's essential and primitive and lasting. It just exists, it just _is. _ It lets good and evil play out their games but every now and then it intervenes… when something has gone badly wrong,' he looked hard at the lawyer, '_you_ have gone badly wrong, cupcake. You're in the wrong dimension, for the wrong reasons and this place has decided enough is enough. Your time is well and truly up.'

'So what? You're gong to kill me again? Go right ahead, the contract is binding. I'll be back… you'll see, and you'll have the company on your ass for your trouble,' Lindsay puffed himself up but deep inside something told him that he was alone in this; that the walls of the Greater Hall were impenetrable. Wolfram and Hart were nothing here. Lorne smiled softly and sought out the little boy within Lindsay who was so very frightened.

'I'm not going to kill you,' he said, 'I'm going to take you home, to where you belong,' and his eyes clouded suddenly with sadness as he realised the implications of his words. Within Lindsay's aura he caught glimpses of a childhood lost, a little boy running through a park, playing on a slide, sitting on the porch of his parents' house playing with a toy truck while the sun beat down. And then he thought of Toby's recent reunion with his family. Lindsay's fate was none so comforting; those childhood memories would not be there to great him. 

'Home,' the 'place where he belonged,' wasn't white picket fences and laughter; it wasn't mommy and daddy and the family pooch. Lorne let his eyes move from portal to portal, sensing each dimension behind each door in the Greater Hall, and deep within him he prayed the chosen one would alter. But it didn't. Hell beckoned, and he was Lindsay's guide.

-- --

The crash and bang of hand to hand conflict was close by. Close by that is to vampire ears which are more attuned to such things. Spike woke groggily and wiped sleep from his eyes. He groaned loudly and the half filled blood glass finally tipped over drenching his pants with half congealed goo.

'Oh bloody hell,' he grumbled, 'What is that noise,' he rubbed at his head and gingerly pulled himself from the couch. 'Lorne? You know what's going on out there… and how much did I have for god's sake, I should have known not to let you pour the measures.' The noises continued the shouts of a man and higher tones of a woman in combat. That'd be the slayer 

then. Lorne had probably gone outside to help.

'Could have woken me at least, know I'm a bit out of it but a good fight'd bring me round.' He smeared the blood across his jeans and then sampled the traces on his palm thoughtfully before biting the bullet and making to rise. The room swam heavily and he wandered to the door, automatically grabbing for his coat.

His fingers grabbed again into air. Spike snapped his head round to glare at the empty hook where his leather duster had been. His hands went to his chest, patted down over his T-shirt and he leapt back towards the couch, turning cushions and flinging them across the room. Nothing. Zero Amulets. His eyes flickered over the TV, the tables, the remnants of Lorne's meal. He scented the air, the aroma of his recent house guest fading; he'd been gone for hours not minutes…and was that scent…was that Lorne or something else? Why hadn't he sensed it before? With a final glance at his vacant coat hook Spike spat at the ground in frustration.

'Bastard!' he cried, 'Bloody clever, evil, good looking son of a bitch! Ate my sodding food, got my sodding coat, _again_ and buggered off with the sodding spangly! I knew something was up…' he paused, 'OK I didn't know something was up, I missed it and he took me for a bloody ride. Oh god…' his eyes widened, 'He's got the Amulet,' and he thought of the phone call he'd received earlier that night from the man he knew was now on his way back to LA specifically to destroy that trinket.

'He is going to be pissed,' he said and opened the crypt door in time to see Sasha fly back and crack her skull off a nearby monument.

-- --

Finding a hide out in post apocalyptic LA wasn't difficult. Finding one that suited his soon to be re-godly status had proved more taxing. Abandoned half broken buildings were two a penny but it had taken a few good hours to locate one with a king-sized bed and a classy en-suite. Now at last with the bathtub filled and the candles glittering Novica disrobed and sank into the water.

'Oh that's good,' he sighed. His human body had taken a bit of a battering and he still felt weak from the vampire's attack earlier. So much happening in so little time, and he had barely adjusted to these powerless tendons and limited muscles. He looked in the mirror above the bath. OK not that limited but not as super-powered as usual.

Oh what he would do for a minion right about now. Come Tuesday he'd select and enthral some good ones. Maybe even Lorne himself for the amusement value. He wondered briefly how the torture was going back at Wolfram and Hart and then dismissed it from his mind. His imagination was good and he could certainly picture the various agonies his nemesis would be put through, but he had a more pleasant picture to dwell on. He closed his eyes and let his memories drift back to Sasha, her pain, her confusion, that spark of something else he tried to deny in all but these his quieter moments. Rich sensual emotion, something he had never felt in his eons of existence. He shivered pleasurably. Now there was a quality minion in the making; that little something extra. He shifted in the water, lightened his thoughts from the creeping anxiety which threatened to consume him whenever he thought of her; yes a fine minion, she could rub his back for starters.

Tuesday. Big flashy ritual. Yeah needed to think about that one, work out the details, should be straightforward enough. He looked down at the Amulet of Hytor, resting at the centre of his chest in the middle of his breastbone. It glinted in the candlelight and he briefly wondered if ancient mythical artefacts were waterproof before closing his eyes again and relaxing into the bubbles. It didn't seem to do much inactive as it was until the ritual, and he wondered what all the fuss was about. From what he had gleaned from Lindsay it had been guarded for centuries, fear and reviled, it had destroyed its wearer's life, isolating him, torturing him. Somehow. Novica snorted. Pathetic humans. They couldn't even look after a trinket without messing it up. Oh the pretty jewel tormented me! Oh it's so unfair!

He let out a long contented sigh and let the ache go from his limbs, the warmth of the water and low soft lighting lulling his body, sending coloured darkness swirling inot his mind and leading him down into dreams.

-- --

'Well that was invigorating,' Wesley puffed as he crawled to his feet. He pushed himself from the ground and then jerked his hand away from the solidifying pool of hairy demon blood. 'and also, I believe the word is, 'icky,'' he commented and looked round for somewhere to wipe the mess.

'Do you think they were significant?' Fred asked emerging from the bushes where the second demon had hurled her minutes before.

'Clohag demons? Not particularly, it's not an unusual sight in a post apocalyptic graveyard. They turn up after natural disasters and the like, raid the disturbed graves, eat brains… usual stuff.'

'Nice… I suppose our brains were too fresh for them?'

'Not really, in fact they probably would have enjoyed the little treat. It's a fact that during the mating seasons the Clohag...'

'Um… Wesley…where's Sasha?'

Wesley closed his mouth suddenly and cast his eyes over the cemetery until they lit upon the dark and silent form of the slayer. She lay just under a tall monument and close to the first demon that she'd succeeded in taking out while Wesley had dealt with the other. But in its final throws it had apparently lashed out hard enough to knock her unconscious. As they hurried towards her Spike emerged from his crypt and joined them.

'I never knew slayers could fly,' Spike remarked.

'Will she be OK?' Fred asked concerned and ignoring the vampire.

'Slayer's are pretty tough,' Wesley said, 'but we probably ought to get her back to the club and carry on without her just to make sure, Sasha. Sasha can you hear me?'

The slayer responded barely and then appeared to sink further into unconsciousness.

'So…' Spike began casually, 'You guys are doing what exactly…?'

'Looking for Lorne,' Fred said her eyes on Sasha.

'Aren't we all,' Spike said.

'What?' Welsey raised his eyebrows.

'Well the thing is, um… I don't quite know how to tell you this but... Lorne was here … before… I mean earlier… at least I assumed it was him and it turned out that er… It wasn't,' he finished sharply.

'Lorne isn't Lorne,' Wesley said quickly, 'Novica has taken his place, he wasn't wearing a glamour at all, it was Novica. We have to find Lorne. It's complex, but he's probably in danger and we have to find his corporeal form, most likely at Wolfram and Hart if I know this town and before anyone else there realises that he's vulnerable while astro-projecting as the Walker of Worlds.'

'OK, now you've just lost me. I was with you up until 'Lorne isn't Lorne.' I knew that bit 'cos he was in my crypt, not Lorne, the other one.'

'What?' Fred's turn.

'Novica,' Wesley said grimly. 'What happened?'

'Um…'

'Spike!'

'Oh bollocks.'

-- --

_Purple skies and silver ice. The flicker of stars from other worlds above his head as the landscape stretched away into the bleak comfort of his former realm. Here his past lay silently, dormant and resting; waiting for him to call on it again and bring it out of this dimension. As he moved he felt nothing against his body; the world around him giving way to his presence, his essence lay here. Novica, the Old One, God of Winter._

_God of more than Winter. The skies above churned and parted, reformed again; their colours merging and altering, purple blue lilac silver. He felt his mind cast about for the relics of his reign, the monuments and worshippers, the sacrifices they made, but all was desolate and unformed. Just the landscape and the sky and his essence breathing softly._

_And a figure, crossing the frozen waste, a woman, her being flickering in and out of the light, her hair long and free across her shoulders, wisps casting across her face obscuring her features. And he knew her. The feeling within him gripped at his centre and held him vice like as she approached. So slowly, the barest of efforts as she came gliding towards him. As he _

_watched the land behind her shifted and mountains rose and fell, lakes filled and emptied and the swirling clouds above finally parted to shine brilliant blue skies through the chaos of hell._

_He watched as her face formed and changed, backwards and forwards. A creature of this world and one of the next, a memory, a dreamscape, a prospect of reality. Past and present, a haunting and a hopeful image, and one sent to torment him in its purest and most beautiful form._

_Her eyes shone the palest blue, like the sky, her skin blanching silver and shadow. Illyria's ghost reached and circled him, pacing like an animal, forcing him to turn and watch as she slipped past him, the horizon behind her shifting with her presence. She grew closer and he felt the power of her legacy beat off her in waves. She was whole and so much more in her incarceration in this Other World. She reached out, a slim and powerful hand, lingering on the Amulet which he wore around his neck, sneering at it with derision and toying with the chain which bound it to him. So this thing had called her here, this torture device of dreams had summoned her to cause him pain in payment for the power it would lend him. She glanced at his eyes; he was unaware of the price he paid for wearing it. _

_She felt him stiffen defensively and withdrew her fingers; she did not care for his petty games of power. His destiny was foretold, if he was to regain his power then so be it, her interests lay elsewhere, her task was clear for now. The slim hand moved upwards, over his chest and neck to touch his still human face and at that moment the ice bore deep into his skin. She held him there and he saw the hatred in her eyes, the vengeance for Levinia, the inconvenience of her own sacrificial death. A martyr's death, for Illyria had touched humanity, and it flowed now in her veins, tainting, altering and improving her. And she saw it in him._

_Humanity; it was every Old One's downfall. He looked deep into Illyria's eyes and saw a talisman shine in her pupils. A glowing pendant which contained the souls which had given him power on his rebirth to earth. Lorne and Sasha, the empath and the slayer. It had been destroyed months ago, by Spike, but somewhere the remnants lingered on, connecting him; every now and then those little shards of soul would flutter and cause him the most exquisite of pains and it frightened him because he was grateful. He was grateful to feel what they felt. Like when he looked down into Sasha's eyes and saw her fear and confusion, and he tried to kid himself he took joy from that, but somewhere beneath that he had seen something quite different in her embrace and the souls fluttered sharply at the memory._

_Illyria bent him to her and with the lightest whisper of movement brushed her cold lips against his, passing magics, passing knowledge, a torturous and fear filled kiss that read of his memories and pre-empted his terror; and when he looked again she was different. When he looked again she was his weakness; and he was hers._

-- --

'Oh finally you're awake!' Lucy's voice cut through the mists of Sasha's confusion. She moaned and pushed herself up on the bed where the others had left her. The dream lingered in the periphery of her vision, the purple skies and silver wastelands just out of her reached. Only his face was vivid, his face, his eyes, the dark green glow of the Amulet and the taste of his lips. She bit her own lip in remembrance.

'I know I said I wasn't into this whole slayer thing but I've been so bored,' the teenager went 

on, she had Aviline in her lap and gum in her mouth. 'So I figure we should swap and I should go out and find the others. You know I think I might be getting used to the idea. I mean you had to start somewhere too right? And you must have been scared at the beginning, but if this is my destiny or whatever then… hey where are you going?' Lucy turned her head to follow Sasha's smooth movement from the room, 'don't you even want to know where they are…?' she called.

The older slayer glided from the room, unseeing, unresponsive and uncaring. She moved as though driven by an inner force, away from her child, away from the club and towards something which called her more strongly than anything she had loved. Need.

'Sasha?' Lucy's voice grew worried and she moved to the landing to watch as the woman vanished down the stairs, there was something in her movement Lucy had never seen before, something otherworldly. 'Sasha?' she repeated more quietly.

Sasha knew she was there, could sense her concern. She opened up the dormant psychic channels she shared with Lorne and with Novica since the day their souls had mixed and she felt Lucy behind her. But she felt beyond that, powerfully as she never had before. She felt lingering clientele in the alley outside, she felt Wesley and Fred far beyond searching and with them Spike, guilty and defensive, the Amulet gone. She looked past all of these things and followed the core of her soul. She stopped in the street and raised her head to the night air. She had a choice.

Her dream vision glowed brightly in her memory and now she felt him nearby, full and rich, filled with unimagined promise and mystery, the burgeoning sense of power-to-be. He had the Amulet, she felt it there and she saw it in her dream. If she could find him... Sasha turned to look left along the road and in her mind's eye reached out to seek his position. There, she felt him.

But another presence waited for her, in the confines of Wolfram and Hart Lorne's body sat tied and bound, vulnerable, unaware of Sasha or his surroundings. His spirit was elsewhere, the Walker, and she felt that there was conflict and pain. She looked right in the direction of the Law firm. He needed her. Something bad was going to happen and he needed her protection.

But the other needed her too; and it had been him who had called her in her dream. Was it the mission that pushed her towards Novica, her sense of the Right Thing, to reach the Amulet and destroy it? Or was it love that pulled her towards Lorne, to save him from whatever lay at Wolfram and Hart. Perhaps something else controlled her now. She looked within to find the answer. _Need._ For a second she looked back down at the ground directly before her and then she chose her path.

-- --

The chosen door stood at the head of the Greater Hall, as inconspicuous and unimpressive as the others, no exterior marks on this one, any handle or keyhole, just a pale grey blue entrance in the grandeur of the hall. As Lorne approached it however he could feel the state of the dimension beyond, a hell plane of the purest form, the crimson skies he had shown Lindsay hours before rolled fiercely over stony outcrops and surging pools of fire. The inhabitants dwelt in makeshifts huts and sheltered under crevices formed by the heated rock. 

There was no escape, only the timelessness that accompanied the dimension.

He was jolted from the images as Lindsay pulled at his arm, dragging him round to face him.

'You can't do this, whatever you have up your sleeve you have the Senior Partners to answer to and you know they won't take this lightly. I'm their right hand man; they've saved my butt again and again from all the little tricks you guys have played. You have nothing on me, Lorne, this won't work. I've done hell dimensions before, I did them with your chum Novica and I came back…'

'Not this time Lindsay,' Lorne said simply and returned to the door. He focused on is centre. Immediately a small gold dot appeared, burning its way through the panel. Lorne relaxed and felt for it with his mind, it was as though the techniques for this gig were coming to him by magic, he just knew what to do, if he relaxed it just happened. Lindsay's eyes were also on the dot, incredulous and disbelieving. This couldn't happen to him. What he'd just calmly walk through the frigging doorway to hell?

He leapt back from Lorne and began to circle to the Greater Hall. If he couldn't escape this waiting room to dimensions completely then he could find another way out for sure, one of these doors had to lead somewhere better than what Lorne had in mind. He didn't know exactly what Lorne did have in mind but he guessed it wasn't pleasant. He jogged around the exterior wall, his eyes on each entrance and exit for signs, clues to where they lead. But the Hall gave him nothing. He glanced back at the portal Lorne was opening, the lean figure before it, head bent in concentration as the gold dot widened and burned, the crimson sky behind it coming slowly into view and the low rush of the winds channelling through it.

Finally he lunged at one door randomly and beat hard against it. The door retaliated with a blast of power which sent him flying backwards.

_Fool, _the female voice chided. Lindsay spun and stared at the pool in the centre of the hall. The waters shifted and formed a figure, reclined at its centre. _You have worked with magics more than many mortals. You know no portal will open without the key. And they key lies there,_ it gestured at Lorne. _ Only the Walker may open the portals. Your destiny lies with him…_and the figure slipped into nothing, the waters burgeoning and settling once more. It left Lindsay with only one choice.

He ran instead for Lorne who deep in concentration failed to respond in time. Lindsay's body battered into him and they struggled briefly as the portal finished its expansion behind them. Lindsay had the demon by the collar, threatening to choke him further, pinning him to the ground and cursing.

'I won't go, I won't go,' he swore as he rained a punch, 'This is a joke, crazy, I'm above this, I'm untouchable now.' Lorne spat blood and tried to free himself, crawl away, anything. Lindsay's vicious streak was in full flight, fear and adrenaline spurring him on. Behind them the portal oozed forward, tendrils of the Other dimension reaching out like arms to embrace Lindsay.

_Do not struggle, _ the voice commanded, and neither body listened, the fight raged on, Lindsay the stronger, Lorne taking the damage and the blows. The voice became more stern. _ Do not struggle, _ it emphasised, _ Your power does not lie with your bones. _ The waters in the 

pool surged angrily. _Listen to me, Walker, listen to your guide._

Lorne stopped. And in that second Lindsay was on him, his fingers tightening around his neck, the fury in his face mottling his skin. And the portal thrust forward. Its tendril like arms seized him and dragged him backward holding him suspended in the door way by four outstretched limbs. The pain coursed through him, his neck and back arching, and he struggled to glare down at Lorne who was pulling himself slowly to his feet. He hovered nervously, the blood pooling in his mouth, his clothes torn and the bruise welling beneath his skin. He cursed his physical manifestation in the Greater Hall, what he would give to be purely astral now. Lindsay's heated face showed pure bloodlust and the nakedness of his evil poured though it. He struggled against the portal's bonds.

'This isn't over, Lorne, you've made a mistake, what comes next will be your fault, live with that!'

_Finish it_, the pool said. _End it now! _

Without thinking Lorne held up one hand, palm facing Lindsay.

'You don't belong,' he said.

The power that surged through him nearly knocked him from his feet but he held on long enough to see it strike Lindsay hard in the chest. At the same time the portal seemed to tug backward, pulling the lawyer with its tendrils into the whirling crimson dimension beyond. Almost as suddenly it snapped shut and the silence of the Greater Hall swamped his ears. He listened for the faint cries of those behind the door, heard them fade, and turned away.

He managed a few steps before the strength went from him. He knew it to be destiny, he knew it would restore some of the balance, he knew Lindsay should never have come back, but none of that helped now. He'd killed him again, in the name of the Mission, in the name of what was right. And all he could think of was the little boy in Lindsay's memory playing with a toy truck on the porch of his parents' sunny home.

The tears came fast and he was dimly aware of the pool to one side lapping softly at its edges.

'Can I go now?' he kept asking, 'Can I go back now?'

_Your work is not yet done. Another walks the wrong path, summoned by magics. She must be restored._

'I can't, I can't do this… it's too much, what right have I to perform these tasks, it's not me, it's beyond me, I'm not the person for this I'm too weak…'

The pool ignored his protestations. _ Her name is Illyria, she walks the dream dimension…_

Lorne looked up sharply.

_She was sent on to her place in the Other World in the name of good. Re-entombed as an Old One. She is drawn forth now by the Amulet of Hytor to torture and distress her lover. She does not belong. Return her to her world._

-- --

He still wasn't used to the sensation of a pounding heart. In general a god's heart beat is slow steady and unfazed, but the dream had shocked him; the stuff of nightmares indeed. Perhaps not what human beings would classically deem scary but enough to rock his godly foundations to the core. Novica eased himself from the now tepid water of the bath, the Amulet swinging before him, scattering emerald droplets in the candlelight. As he moved one flame flickered and died, leaving the bathroom in gloom, a single candle on the window ledge lighting his way. His skin felt cold against the air and with his long sleep motionless in water and he grabbed a towel from the rail to cover himself as he shivered. He wandered to the bedroom and sat damp and miserable on the covers of the bed. It was dark in here too and the shadows clouded his features and he absently rubbed his skin through the towel.

First Illyria, then Sasha. The image was powerful and disturbing, and yet he couldn't figure out why it troubled him so much. She'd been a plaything, something with which to revenge himself against Lorne. But when he'd seen her in the wastelands of his home dimension the panic had ripped through him to the core, and he could feel Illyria's mockery, sense her thoughts in his dream.

_Humanity; it was every Old One's downfall._

And it was true; it took many different forms. Love, mercy, trust. It was Illyria's downfall too, even long before Fred her love for their daughter Levinia had proved unnatural and strangely human. And he had seen hundreds of others fall, touched by the race of beings which moved on earth. He had escaped it, banished as he was to the purest of hells, surrounded by demons who could not feel. It was secure there. A world filled with bloodshed torture and war; utterly safe. He shuddered. Illyria played with his mind. It wasn't even real just a dreamscape.

But he knew that what he had seen_ was_ real and he couldn't shake it from his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling when she had become Sasha. The real Sasha he was certain, he sensed her by her confusion and fear. By that something else which he glimpsed in her eyes even in that second. The thing she tried to suppress. She'd suppressed it during their union and the fear had overridden it; but it was there. It was why he couldn't move on from the memory. It was why he craved more. Novica cried out before he could stop himself and clutched his head in his hands. Their souls had mingled once and the damage had been done. Their physicality just compounded it in a way he hadn't anticipated. Humanity was a part of him now, and it would lead to his downfall. If he could just get through this long enough to regain his powers… none of this would matter.

As he perched on the edge of the bed he became dimly aware of the sound of a phone close by. Slowly he raised his head, a sprinkle of water falling from his dark hair. He blinked it away, wiped the rivulets from his cheeks and followed the sound. He appeared to be coming from Spike's coat. He rifled through the pockets, the music growing louder until his hands slipped around a smooth pebble shaped cell phone.

He looked curiously at the name on the screen and his troubles fell from his features at once. His smile cracked wide and he softly opened the cell, gazing absently at the bed as the voice crackled forth. It didn't wait for a response, trusting the owner of the phone, hurried to impart 

its message, breathless, perhaps pursued by others, it panted the instructions.

'I know where the ritual is to be held, there's a sacred spot in the desert, just past the old Wyberg gas station, follow the track 'til you seen a rocky outcrop its beyond that…' the reception fuzzed, there were cries from the other end of the cell, blows, breathlessness, and the voice was back, 'Giles made a mistake in his calculations, it's tomorrow… you hear me Spike, this damn thing's breaking up… I hate these things… tomorrow, sunrise, that's just hours away… I need you to get here with the Amulet…I'll be there as soon as I can, there's something I have to do first… do you hear…?'

Novica closed the cell.

'Loud and clear…' he mused, 'Boss…'

He turned back towards the bathroom, slipping a robe around his shoulders, a smile on his face; might as well spruce himself up for the big do. Just a few hours more and all his worries would pass. All those who had tried to restrain him, Lorne and his cronies, Wolfram and Hart, they would all be defeated. He would be powerful again, his weaknesses gone or armoured by glory. And it was then that he felt her, moving through the night, up the stairs, towards him. His weakness personified, the psychic link binding them, that thing which troubled him bright and noisy, rich in her aura. She was close, she was tangible.

A tap on the door.

She was here.

-- --

Spike was ahead of them when it began. Skidding to a halt in the centre of the deserted street just yards from their goal and Lorne at Wolfram and Hart. The building loomed before them, vast and perfect, but behind it the sky rumbled ominously, a rent in the sky forming suddenly.

'That looks…' Spike began. The explosion ripped through the remaining sky so that all to the east flamed crimson. Fred clung to Wesley whose face drained pale beneath the firelight. It danced in his eyes and cast shadows in the hollows of his cheeks.

'What's going on?' Fred called above the noise which gushed forth, through the clouds, over the building, it poured like a torrent over the street, piercing, rumbling, a thousand volumes and tones at once and yet familiar. And then through the vent the first creatures came, wings wide and scaled, their eyes blazing in the night.

'It's started again…'

'You reckon?' Spike yelled sarcastically, skipping backwards and ducking as the first thing attacked him.

'What's started?' Fred whimpered. 'What's happening?'

'The apocalypse,' Wesley replied, 'Run!'

'But what about Lorne?' Fred hesitated and was joined by Spike who jerked his head back and looked between Wesley and the building, ready to go in if it was needed. In that second Wolfram and Hart let out a roar and the foundations shuddered.

'We can't,' Wesley shouted, 'It's too dangerous, 'we have to go,_ now!'_

'No,' Spike said certainly, 'I can't do that.'

-- --

The door opened without waiting for permission and she entered the room, without weapons and apparently without fear. She stood glazed and yet entirely focused, taking in the room, taking in him, his robe, his wet hair, the look of what…? Fear? _Need. _She saw it in his eyes.

'I know you're not him,' she said simply. 'I know you're not Lorne. I know you weren't him last night. You're Novica.'

He eyed her cautiously from the far side of the room, aware all the time that she was a slayer and powerful. He was trapped in this weak human for hours yet and he was vulnerable. She knew it. He saw it in her. The hunger. The ancient spirit within her that saw evil and saw she could take it down. But something besides that. A different hunger. An abandonment from her path. A confusion which had led her to give up on the black/white good/evil existence a slayer had to live. And he realised that in that moment their minds were continuing to merge, through the past and the talisman that had held her soul to him.

'You didn't come here to finish me off did you?' His eyes glittered in the last of the dying candles and around his neck the Amulet hung lifeless in preparation for the ritual.

'No.'

'Take me back as your prisoner so team Lorne can win the day?'

'No.'

'Then what?' he approached her steadily, his eyes keeping close watch on her body for any sudden movement, any glimmer of attack. 'What made you come here?'

'A dream.'

The words hit him like a blow and he saw that it had been real. They had shared it. That somehow via their connection the Amulet had cursed not one but both of them with nightmares. His was that he would crave the love of another; hers that she would crave the antithesis of all she believed in. And now instead of running away she had sought out that nightmare. She wanted to test her theory, try out her weakness, she spent her life being strong and now would weakness really be that bad? If she let go of the Mission, if she let go of the good and pure would she still be the slayer, would she still be Sasha? Did any of it really matter?

When Novica had taken her she had at first doubted Lorne, a demon, untrustworthy, fundamentally incompatible, who had she been kidding that it would ever work? But when 

she found out it had been the Old One she doubted only herself. It was she who failed to see the difference between them; it was she who had accepted Novica into her bed and her body. And it had turned her world upside down; what if there was no difference between them… between good and evil, what if it all meant nothing? And in its own brutally intimate way it had highlighted every issue her strange life had seen since she had joined with Lorne that day in Chicago to end the apocalypse. Her relationship with the demon, dimensions, time, death and rebirth, her strange and beautiful child. Demon/slayer, demon/slayer. Same damn thing.

There was a rumble from beyond the room. Wolfram and Hart's rage at Lindsay's demise was raining down over LA. It had all started again; she could feel the evil in the air just as she had when she had first arrived all those months ago, a cycle restarted. And what was the point of trying to stop it. It would just come back, again and again and again. She was part of it. They were all part of it. Let it rain.

She looked at him steadily, and suddenly he was the most certain thing in the disintegrating world. She knew what he desired, what he represented and she knew the landscape of his body and his face. She knew his touch and her reaction to it; she knew the curve of his lips and the depth of his eyes. And she knew what he was, who he would be if the ritual succeeded, and what he would do when it did.

She had wanted him despite it all. It was deep within her and primal. The ancient powers of the slayer passed through her and those of the old ones, the original demons through him. It was all about balance, it was all about hunger. It was _need._

His lips were on hers before she knew it, hard and persistent, the hunger equal in him as in her. Outside the sky tore and dimensions blurred all over again, fire raged and the ancient battle reignited, but it served only as a backdrop to this; something greater. This all encompassing and powerful moment between the forces. She blocked all thought from her mind and the torment of the previous days was pushed roughly aside with her clothes and her fears. She couldn't think any longer. She had thought for months, unable to comprehend, unable to figure out her place in the universe; what was right and what was wrong. This was now. This was all there was.

She pulled the robe from his shoulders and felt his damp skin press into hers. They backed hard against the bed and fell tumbling onto its covers, crawling up its length, clawing at their bodies. He was hot and breathless, consumed by this most human of fire and beyond restraint, his lips fastened on hers, his tongue deep and strong, the pressure of his hips against hers driving him into her with a force that made her gasp. She wanted this. This freedom; this battle of wills. She rolled him until he was under her, pinning him there, knowing she was stronger, knowing that she had longed to do just this the night before, take back control, change the dynamics, teach him something he'd never encountered, she was the slayer, _she_ had the power… but he rolled her back, tipping her balance and forcing her back beneath him.

It would always be equal, no-one would ever win this contest because it was eternal and for a second she let herself submit. She savoured it, the grind of his body into hers, the feeling of the sweat between their skins, the sound of him, desperate and animal, hot breath blasting her neck. She closed her eyes and as the colours began to whirl behind her lids she felt the force of him gush suddenly within her, his body shuddered hard and pushed her over the edge and as he drove for the final time he pinned her painfully beneath him with his weight, holding 

her arms, compelling her to surrender; his completely. A gust from the window and the final candles guttered, leaving them in darkness, the rich scent of his skin and his sweat, the heat of his exhaustion and the pant of his breath the only things she could sense.

Novica raised his head and in the gloom she saw that the Amulet glowed softly in preparation for the ritual. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around it; both of them knowing that with her strength she could destroy it easily right there and end this thing.

'The apocalypse has started again,' she said softly. 'Even if you do get your powers now, isn't it too late? Wolfram and Hart have unleashed hell on earth.'

'There's more than one type of hell,' Novica replied. 'Some can be survived, some can't.'

She looked down at the Amulet in her hand and listened as the pace of his breathing slowed again, his heart thudding through her body with soothing regularity.

'I chose yours,' she said quietly.

He looked at her curiously and then his eyes softened. 'But you don't know which mine is…'

Outside the hordes continued to pour through the rent in the sky, and from the doorway of Wolfram and Hart, through the street before the building, the earth split open with ragged teeth.

-- --

Illyria, unmistakably her, still presenting herself as the image of Fred painted delicately in blues and silvers. Lorne couldn't help but smile as his form glided through the portal to Novica's dimension; same old Illyria. She was standing in the centre of a great plain, watching the sky, her lips slightly parted as she took in the swirls of purples and pinks.

'Hello Lorne,' she said quietly, her voice still that clear cold tone.

'Hello tweetybird,' he looked up to the clouds, 'you know you're not supposed to be here right? What are you doing?'

'Watch,' she murmured and the clouds above parted letting through blue skies. 'When I order them to separate they do so, and when I order earth's sky to appear before me, it appears. I have all my powers.'

Lorne smiled indulgently; there was something simplistically childlike about her here.

'But it does not last,' Illyria concluded and above her the skies clouded over again with the darker still beautiful hues of Novica's world.

'That's because this isn't your dimension honey, not your realm, this is Novica's old joint.'

Illyria dropped her gaze to meet his. 'You are the Walker now,' her tone was filled with knowledge, but it didn't surprise him. Illyria had a way of knowing things and particularly 

now, he reflected that she was all godly again. 'I know you must send me back, and then you must go to him. He is on his way to regain his powers too, but his will persist, unlike mine. He will shape your world.' He frowned at her words. Novica, she'd seen him, felt him.

'Lorne?' she said softly.

'Yes sweetie,'

'The place I exist in now, it's empty of everything. I am entombed.'

'I know,' he said, 'But I guess that's just how it has to be.'

'My destiny,' she stated.

'Yes.'

She looked back towards the clouds and made them part a final time. 'He has taken her with him, and she will not return to you,' Lorne's heart skipped a beat. 'I understand that this will cause you… pain… Lorne. I think… I think I am sorry for that, for any part I played. But it was for… the Greater Good.'

'Illyria?' he said, 'What do you mean? He's taken Sasha, Illyria, what do you know? Please tell me,'

Her eyes closed before the blue above their heads could vanish and she faded from his view.

'I will miss your sky,' she said.

-- --

The last time she had driven him they had been headed towards the mirror at the centre of Wolfram and Hart. The mirror Novica used to channel his armies onto earth. And the man sitting beside her, wearing that face had been Lorne. She glanced across at him now, Novica through and through and yet partly the demon. Partly her. He was sitting head bent, silhouetted by darkness and the flash and scatter of lights raining from the sky. The Amulet of Hytor was glowing deeper, and yet more brightly with each passing mile and it reflected in his eyes.

She looked back to the road. The familiar road stretching out in front of her, her thoughts muddled and yet clearer than ever before. It was the journey in reverse from the one she had made with Lorne. Then they had driven towards apocalyptic LA to end it. Now she drove out into the desert with his mirror image. The thing which would begin an apocalypse of its own choosing.

Between then and now so much had happened and most of it awful. Sasha had always clung to a few happy memories to see her through the darkness and she realised now that one of them was of a night just like this. A night when Lorne had worn the glamour, pretended to be human, made her life seem normal for a moment. Just a girl and her guy on a road trip.

Normal seemed so very far away from everything she touched. Maybe this could be the start 

of a new kind of normal. She laughed at the madness in her thoughts. Maybe she'd cracked at last, maybe it had all been just too much for her.

As she drove Novica regarded her quietly from the corners of his eyes. He never thought his weakness could become part of his strength. And yet, there she was, the girl, infatuated with his human form; the slayer intoxicated by his power, and he with hers. A fine balance indeed.

-- --

The pool lapped at the marble sides of its enclosure with indifference.

_You have performed your task and Illyria is once again in her place, _it said, _you may return to your body and await the next calling._

'I know what the next calling is,' Lorne paced around the confines of the Greater Hall, vast as it was he had the sense that it was pressing on him from all corners, 'Now show me where they are.'

_Who?_

'You know who, Novica and Sasha, where is he taking her?'

_The Old One is on his way to his rebirth. He holds the Amulet and the time is near. By sunrise…_

'And Sasha?' he leant on the side of the pool and glared down into the waters which sloshed innocently despite his urgency.

_She is with him._

'She's trying to stop him right?'

_No. She is with him. On his journey. The paths are rewritten, the destinies have altered._

'Destinies don't alter,' Lorne cried, 'I should know I've been reading them long enough. I won't believe it's her destiny for her to accompany him to his re-godding or whatever you guys call it. I've _seen_ her destiny and this wasn't it. This is crazy, what's been happening while I've been up here?'

_The world has altered, _the soft voice answered, _and much has changed. We have been forced to intervene._

'How? Intervene how? What's changed?'

_Sometimes it is necessary to fight fire with fire …_ the waters moved and images floated to its surface. The desolation around the unscathed Wolfram and Hart building as the apocalypse began again, Wesley and Fred running for their lives beneath the onslaught of evil which poured from the crack in the sky and its mirror image in the earth, and the calm outward journey Sasha made behind the wheel of the van which carried her and Novica to the sacred spot in the desert.

_You of all people understand the different colours of evil, the different degrees of demon. There is no good and no evil, no purity of motion, no simple day and night; only the grey area in between, the shadowlands in which we all must play our part. Sometimes we progress towards the sun; sometimes it is better to fight darkness with dusk._

'What are you talking about, darkness and dusk?'

_With the daylight waning, your slayer moves towards dusk._

'Are you telling me that if Novica gets his powers back he'll be the lesser of two evils?'

_If you wish to view it that way._

'No, no it's not possible, it can't happen that way, he doesn't belong here, he needs to go back to his dimension and rot. I can send him back, like I did with Lindsay, he doesn't have a place here…'

_This is not your task._

'I make it my task; you can't allow this to happen.' The images in the pool became more violent as LA crumbled beneath Wolfram and Hart's renewed apocalypse. Death and bloodshed filled the disintegrating streets, fire burned in every corner, glass shattered and the sky churned crimson.

_He can stop this, _the voice remarked, _it is his destiny. He belongs in your world, Lorne._

'No! He can't, he doesn't!'

Lorne felt the rage burn in him with the intensity of his new powers; he felt it move up over his shoulders, down his arms, heavy and heated. He felt weak, his form flickering, losing the solidity it wore in the Greater Hall, the powers were forcing him out, forcing him to return to his body now that his tasks were met, how could Novica belong, how could they deny him, Lorne, the chance to rid the world of his evil by propelling him back to his dimension? He clung to his head and whimpered at the growing power of his magics, magics over which ultimately he had no control. He was as much a puppet of the powers as Lindsay had been. The Greater Hall shimmered before him.

'I won't go back, I won't go back, I have to…'

'Lorne!' the voice commanded him to consciousness, 'Lorne wake up, we've got to move, Lorne!' the slap hit him hard cross the cheek and he reeled back in his chair. Still locked in the interrogation room at Wolfram and Hart except that now it was hotter, smokier, undamaged but smouldering in the heat of the apocalypse. He blinked and squinted trough the gloom at his attacker, the face pale above the smoke; it cracked into a warm and familiar smile, marred by a deep new scar with ran across one cheek and severed the top lip.

'Hey, buddy, good to see you, not the best of circumstances but we'll make up for it later, now come on, let's get out of here before we both end up a pile of dust.'

Angel reached down and snapped the bindings from his wrists, hauling Lorne to his feet and rushing him from the interior of Wolfram and Hart..

-- --

The car was waiting outside, and to his relief Lorne spotted not only Fred and Wesley but a charred looking Spike crammed in the back. Angel helped him into the passenger side and then gunned the engine, the tyres screaming as he raced the apocalypse from the city. He gave them a run down on events as he drove; he'd been on his way to destroy the Amulet when he saw the rift in the sky above the old Law firm building. When he had found Spike he'd added up the facts and concluded it was probably too late to stop Novica and knowing Lorne was still in that building had left him with no options.

'We'll deal with Novica later, somehow I get the impression that one itty bitty Old One is a lot easier to finish off than a full scale Wolfram and Hart apocalypse. And from what my sources tell me, he might even come in useful…'

'The lesser of two evils…' Lorne said with sadness. 'For you anyway.'

Angel glanced across at him his face pinched with concern. 'Something like that.' The car groaned as he floored the accelerator and through the whistling wind they could hear the disintegration of the city behind them. Not one dared to look back. The clouds of debris raced them to the desert, masking the rising sun behind them, casting shadow over the land in front, protecting the two vampires in the car but choking those who needed air to breathe. And then just as they felt they would be swallowed by the stream of death which pursued them, it happened.

In the distance of the desert the eruption flared high above the ground, it lit their faces with silvers and blues, it flashed in Angel's eyes, in the windscreen of the car, it brought them to a blinding halt, paralysed by fear and by awe. The tall stream of colour washed out across the countryside with such speed that in seconds it was over and beyond them, washing back the dark cloud of destruction which poured from LA. And with it, it brought ice, layers of frozen waste which buried the desert, crept over the car, formed on the clothes of those who sat watching within it. It reared up as it met the wall of Wolfram and Hart's apocalypse and with a devastating noise like a thousand shattering crystals it held up the black cloud and froze it in place containing the evil with its own particular malevolence. The noises from within the icy tomb were muffled and dying, occasionally peaking as the evil rallied.

'What was that?' Fred said in wonder.

'Fighting fire with fire,' Lorne remarked.

'More like ice, mate,' Spike said, the crystals forming on his eyelashes.

'I think Lorne means fighting one brand of evil with another,' Wesley said, 'that was Novica yes, reaffirming his powers?'

'That's what it was,' Angel confirmed. 'Don't underestimate this guys, it might look peaceful from out here but we just witnessed the start of a war between our old enemies and our new one. As if we didn't have enough enemies,' he complained. He sat back from the driver's seat 

and looked at the surroundings.

The light was still dull, the sun still unable to break through on its morning journey across the sky, but the ice around them shone dimly none the less, already feet thick it threatened to capture them in the car. Lorne raised his eyes dimly a looked towards the epicentre of Novica's power. Was she there with him? He reached out with his mind and felt nothing, no link, her light was gone. Lost to him, perhaps dead, perhaps worse. The pain settled tightly in his chest and he recognised it as grief. Something was over. Something had vanished forever.

As he sat motionless the first flakes of snow began to fall, tiny perfect individual flakes which settled on the passengers and over the vehicle, on the ice beyond, growing and creating a thick carpet to line Novica's new realm.

Lorne looked up and saw the clouds gathering above him, obscuring the world as he had known it and every memory of all that he had cherished. Thick purples and lilacs, deep blues and violets; the heavens of another dimension were setting up home and in every movement he saw her face. With sadness he repeated Illyria's final words to himself.

'I will miss your sky,' he said.


	13. Chapter 13: Instinct

_Was she there with him? He reached out with his mind and felt nothing, no link, her light was gone. Lost to him, perhaps dead, perhaps worse. The pain settled tightly in his chest and he recognised it as grief. Something was over. Something had vanished forever._

_Lorne looked up and saw the clouds gathering above him, obscuring the world as he had known it and every memory of all that he had cherished. Thick purples and lilacs, deep blues and violets; the heavens of another dimension were setting up home and in every movement he saw her face. With sadness he repeated Illyria's final words to him._

'_I will miss your sky,' he said._

-- --

It was the middle of the night. So why was there light outside?

The girl was perched on the edge of a single bed, her eyes watching the drawn curtains and the patterns which flitted across their material. Shadows which morphed and shifted, now claws, now wings. She looked away into the familiar room and chided her imagination. Probably nothing. Things could look worse than they were in this town. The others would be back soon. They wouldn't just leave them here; they'd have sent a signal, a message, come and got them. Something.

The baby cooed in her sleep, the soft sounds masked almost completely by the forces outside. Gales and wind, the creak and whimper of buildings struggling in the wake of whatever had been unleashed.

Probably nothing.

She shut her eyes and willed it away.

-- --

He was aware of the cold, and of the shimmering frost tinted light. He was aware of the cut of ice on his face, the chill piercing deep under his skin, and he was aware of the pales blues and whites of the desert around them as Novica's reign settled on the countryside. He could feel the engine of Angel's car struggle as the machine moved through the snow, jarring and sticking, hauling itself over the thickening frost.

But inside he felt nothing. Lorne's eyes glazed as they drove, the featureless landscape flickering across their surface. The auras of relief and concern washing past him from his friends. Wesley, Fred, Spike, Angel at the wheel to his left; re-materialised without question after his post apocalyptic departure the year before. But there was someone missing, their loss filled him, and on the horizon he could sense the brilliant tower of icy light which heralded Novica's return. Somewhere in that fortress was Sasha and he didn't understand any of it; he just knew she was gone.

Fred's voice at his shoulder: where were they heading? There was a gas station nearby, Angel remarked, they'd stop off there, allow the vampires to take shelter from the growing light and allow the team to rethink. He'd been headed that way previously, it had been an agreed meeting point between him and Spike and now it would serve as a refuge. Luck had been on their side it seemed, pointed him in their direction and got them out of this alive.

Wesley now; full of questions. Angel's disappearance and his communication with Spike. Had he communicated with the PTB as well? Angel evading the question, his aura flickering with anxiety. Fred again, her voice at first a jumble of words to Lorne. Distant, behind frosted glass, and then their meaning cut though and his protective numbed walls shattered. Simple, simple words which filled him with utter dread.

'So did you send Lucy on to the gas station too?' Lorne sensed the halt the question brought to Spike and Wesley's thoughts.

'Lucy?' Angel quizzed.

Fred's aura blanched behind him. Lorne's eyes flicked upwards.

'Lucy,' he said, 'She was at the club… I thought when you found Fred and Wesley…'

'We weren't at the club,' Wesley confirmed.

'Aviline,' Lorne said, his voice filled with a rising panic, 'No-one went back for her.'

-- --

'Not going away, it's not going away,' she muttered and inched towards the window where the curtains flickered in the draught which pushed its way through the gaps around the glass. Hesitantly she slipped her fingers behind one curtain and peered through.

The earth groaned, and from the window above Lorne's club Lucy could see the devastation rain down over the city. The clouds above churned with the vivid scarlet of hell, the sky rent in two by the forces at Wolfram and Hart. Everything else was crumbling. No sign of normal life.

So this was the apocalypse everyone kept talking about. Wasn't that supposed to be over? What had happened to start it again? At the back of her mind, behind the fear, she felt guilt; guilt for doubting her new companions when they had spoken of evil and the apocalypse. She'd laughed in the face of it all, it was crazy, ridiculous, she'd half considered calling a doctor to section these loons, but then she'd seen some of it herself, up close and personal. It was taking time for her adjust to this new world, she remembered when her biggest concern had been her prom shoes and now her concerns couldn't be greater. She was sixteen, her new friends had vanished in the mess outside and she was standing helpless, alone and separated from the chaos by a thin sheet of glass.

She bit her lip and pulled away from the window a little, stepping back so that the curtain fell into place, a sliver of a gap between them in which the light and darkness flickered eerily.

But she wasn't helpless was she? She was a slayer. A chosen one. Chosen recently but chosen none the less. And as she watched the creatures spill forth over the streets she felt the fear mingle with something deep and primitive in her. OK she'd run away before, she'd hated this new gig, she didn't like graveyards or crypts or things that went bump in the night, but the others had been with her then. She could hide behind them and bow to their experience. It had sheltered her somewhat; but now there was no shelter. This was her purpose; to end 

things like those, scuttling over sidewalks and upending cars, evil things, things like the shapeshifter that had killed her daddy. The crimson sky pierced the glass and reflected in her features, the flicker of the muscle in her jaw as she watched the demons maraud.

A roll of unearthly thunder startled her, but the fluttering heartbeat soon settled again. All she had to do was trust her instincts and her instincts said that no-one was coming for her. Whatever had happened to the others had taken them far away.

Lucy opened the curtains again. Looking past the fire and destruction outside, she could see the waves of colour wash over the sky beyond. There was a war up in the heavens, the deep black colours of wolfram and hart, radiating from the building she knew was buried in the skyline, and burgeoning against it the blues and purples, frozen colours from a wasteland beyond. She didn't know what it was, but she could sense it was powerful, and she could sense it was coming closer.

'I don't want to be here when that arrives,' she said to herself, 'And neither do you,' she turned away from the window and approached Aviline's cot. 'Whatever's going on out there it must be pretty bad, I don't know your daddy very well but I'm pretty certain he wouldn't just leave you,' the baby's red eyes fixed on her sharply as though her little mind understood the reference to Lorne.

'Don't' worry,' Lucy reassured, 'we'll just have to go find him, you and me,' she lifted the baby and held her against her chest, the solidity and warmth of the child offering her extra resolve. 'I won't leave you here. My daddy had to leave me too,' she said sadly, 'But you're going to get yours back.'

The colours of the sky moved across the ceiling of the room, bathing them both in a mixture of reds and blues, changing colour schemes which reflected the war outside. A distant crash heralded the collapse of another building, the high pitched screams which followed rapidly dampened by the force of the elements and the demons which commanded them. She glanced back at the window, at the cascading darkness which fell from the sky; every trace of human existence was being wiped from the canvas, every building, every streetlamp, every vehicle. They would have to move fast, Caritas would be next, but how in God's name to get out of the city? And how to protect this little one until she did? Lucy looked down at the child whose watchful eyes regarded her with suspicious calm.

'I can kick any ass that comes between us and getting out of here but I don't have a clue where to go,' she confessed moving quickly around the room, slinging a bag over one shoulder, grabbing weapons with her free hand, 'You got any ideas, munchkin?' Her fingers stroked the pale green skin of Aviline's face lightly, cradling her against her. Aviline cried a high distressed cry and forced the slayer's attention her way. She looked down and laid her palm against the apple of her cheek before jerking her hand away. Lucy's brow knit. The child's skin burned.

'Oh no, don't be sick, I don't think the ER is open for business,' hesitantly she replaced her fingers on the baby's face and frowned again at the sensation. The burning wasn't one of fever; her skin was dry and soft. It didn't feel like heat; it felt like light.

The rush of air sent her staggering into the dark recess of the room. The window behind had shattered, glass flying inwards, the heavy scent of sulphur and destruction gushing into the 

club. The building trembled roughly. No time to think. The war outside was moving forward, moving towards them. She had to go. She had to go now.

With Aviline secured against her Lucy stumbled from the bedroom and into the darkness of the hall; the noise of the unnatural earthquake driving her on, dust and rubble already falling from above her, windows blowing as she passed, grit scouring at her face and eyes, heat surging into her with every lungful of air; she tried to hold her breath against it, bury her face against the baby and just move. Just get out of here, out of the confusion and smoke and darkness, and instincts were all she had.

-- --

'Stop the car, right now!' the urgency in Lorne's voice sent chills through Fred. The vehicle halted, trundling along over the ice it had gained little speed to begin with. In front of them close by, she could see the dim shape of the encrusted gas station, half buried in snow, but as Lorne sprang from the car he turned back to face LA.

'You left them there, you just left them!'

'I didn't know,' Angel moved towards him, his arms spread in an empty gesture of apology, 'I didn't know there was anyone else on the team…'

'Team? _Team? _They weren't on 'the team,' Aviline is my _family.'_

'I just saw Fred and Wes and… I went back for _you...' _Angel tried.

Lorne turned on Wesley who was inching from the car, his feet slipping gingerly on the ice as he stood.

'_You_ knew about them, what you just forgot to say anything?'

'In all the confusion... I…well… I…' Wesley stuttered.

'Don't make excuses!' Lorne flung his arms up until his hands were buried in his hair; his line of sight level with the dark mass that was LA before him. He bit his lip hard and glared through the city, 'Jesus,' he spat out. 'You guys were so hell bent on getting your own asses out of there…'

'Lorne,' Fred's voice now, soft, 'Angel didn't know about them, and we didn't say… we didn't think… we just assumed…' Something in her tone echoed only the genuine and Lorne allowed her to approach him. 'We'll go back, right?' she looked at the others, 'We'll find them.'

'Too damn right,' Spike interjected, he was pacing the snow now with the others, 'It's my fault, I should have said, I should have kept my bloody cool and checked.'

'I think we all just thought someone else had warned them,' Wesley said sadly, 'We were all so caught up in what was happening in there.'

'It's my fault,' Lorne said quietly, 'This would never have happened… these damn powers… 

all this stuff with Sasha... my baby… my little girl… my focus should have been on _her._' Fred reached up and stroked Lorne's shoulder.

'Lucy's a slayer, if anyone can cope with what's in there, she can, and we'll go back, we'll find them,' she said again.

A deep rumble crept from the horizon, the raging war between Wolfram and Hart and Novica's power moved forward a notch. The ice encroached in a wave across the city, pushing back the hell forces the law firm had mustered. The light around them grew brighter as the God's power settled into its place, a clear winter's day replacing the blizzard that pushed forward with his front line. He was establishing himself and the storm had moved into LA. Spike squinted up at the lightening sky and Angel set his jaw.

'We can't go back,' he said. 'We won't survive it.'

'Are you insane? His nipper's in there!' Spike said.

'So are a lot of people's kids,' Angel replied. Fred raised her eyebrows and Wesley's jaw dropped just a fraction.

'You have a son,' Wesley said quietly, 'How can you talk that way?'

Angel refused to return his glance. In the cold light the new scar which marked his face seemed dark and angry.

'I'm trying to protect you. We're not going back in there,' he said, 'There are two apocalypses raging in that city, we have no idea what we are up against, no plan, no magics, no forces of any kind, we were lucky to get out alive and we can't go risking it for one life…'

'Two,' Fred corrected, 'Lucy and Aviline, and they have names.'

'Sometimes we have to make hard choices. For the greater good,' he added weakly.

'Yeah you made one about me; seem to remember you left me to die too,' Fred snapped.

'You going to go in there Fred?' Angel quipped, 'Look at you, you're barely strong enough to stand now that Illyria is gone, you're a shell.'

The word hit her hard, and a rare flash of hatred passed through her eyes.

'I'm sorry,' Angel backtracked, 'I shouldn't have used that word, but look at us, two vamps about to burn up in the sun here, a young woman with no powers and a guy who's recently returned from the dead. There's nothing we can do against this right now. We need a plan a solid plan, we can't just charge in.'

Lorne heard the words but felt his consciousness drift away from the speaker. His eyes were still fixed on LA, increasingly swamped in ice. He watched as the blizzard raged around the edges of the battlefield, felt the power radiating from it.

'WE can't just charge in,' he repeated, 'That's not what you said last year. 'Let's take the 

fight to them, guys,'' he remembered. 'Well guess what? You're not in charge of us anymore Angel,' Lorne spoke with a slow firm tone, 'You brought on the end of the world and then you left us to fight your battle, clean up your mess and we've managed. We've done OK. So you can do what _you _like but we're not playing follow my leader anymore,' he turned, his features bright against the white backdrop of Novica's hell, 'If you want to hide in that gas station and strategise then go right ahead, we didn't think much of your last strategy anyhow…'

'Lorne, just come inside and we'll work together on this; I know it's got to be terrifying for you but…'

Lorne cut Angel off with a sudden burst of anger which rocked the group. His usual diplomacy left him and Fred let go of his arm, stepping back from him with a hint of fear. He was tense and enraged, his eyes flashing red and he fixed Angel with a look Fred had never 

seen before, something primitive and angry.

'No you don't have a clue, Angel, you haven't been here, you haven't seen the stuff we've seen or fought this war at all. It's nothing to do with you. That's my child in there, my _child_ Angel, and a scared kid of sixteen who just lost everything in the world that's precious to her… you expect me to sit out here and have a bit of a think? Just wait 'til you come up with another of your great plans? Well your plans suck, Angelcakes, the last one nearly ended us all. It ended Gunn, it ended Illyria, it ended him,' he jabbed a hand at Wesley, 'and for all intents and purposes it ended me too. You have no idea what you've done, to all of us, to _me_. You broke hearts and bodies and spirits with your _plan. _So don't give me orders now Angel, because I swore I wouldn't take any more from you and I meant it.'

Lorne wheeled round and wrenched open the back of the car, grabbing randomly at weapons, on anything he could lay his hands on. Fred cast a bitter glance at Angel who stood motionless head bowed, his pale features whiter in the snow, the frost settling on his dark clothes; the chill body within unable to produce its own warmth. Lorne was right, he felt that he was right and it struck him somewhere tender he'd hidden from all this time.

'Well?' Fred said to him trying to quell her own anger and focus. 'What do we do? If we go as a team we have a better chance.' Fred grew aware of the reluctance which came from both Wesley and Angel.

'Maybe Angel is right,' Wesley started, 'We're weak and we need to come up with some sort of…'

'What!?' Fred snapped at him, she spun on Angel, 'Tell me you're not doing this!'

The moment was brief but pregnant. Angel ignored her and looked at the ground in front of Lorne.

'So you don't need me, I get that, but don't do it like this,' he said, 'What's going on, it'll kill you, it'll kill us all …'

With his arms filled with weaponry Lorne turned back to the group, the shadows of the battle dancing behind his tall silhouette. This time his voice was soft and in its tones there was real sadness.

'That didn't stop you last time Angel, not when you thought the cause was good enough. And we backed you, even when we knew it would finish us…even though we sensed it was wrong,' he waited, his eyes burning into the vampire. He watched as his old friend's aura changed and shimmered and then a short bitter laugh escaped him. 'Oh I see,' Lorne mocked, 'I see how it works now. Learned your lesson charging in last time, filled with guilt and uncertainty, brought Mr Higher Purpose down to our level.'

Angel ignored the jibes and raised his eyes, 'I came here to help you guys, I got you out alive this time. Don't do this now, don't go back in there.'

'Am I supposed to be grateful?' Lorne's laughter became rich with tears, 'Am I suppose to thank you for all this? Well let's see…' his voice grew high with feigned sarcasm, ''Gee thanks Angel, I did what you asked and shot Lindsay but he came back from the dead to ruin 

my life.' And now you turn up the big hero and save the day that was your fault to begin with and I'm supposed to be all appreciative? I'm supposed to wait here on your command while my baby dies in that… that… hell on earth. Screw you, Angel. If she dies, you killed her.'

He turned and made his way rapidly across the snow. Wesley and Fred stood motionless by Angel, panic stricken and indecisive but Spike scampered for his own supply of weaponry from the car.

'I'm with him,' he said simply, a crossbow slung across his back, a stake disappearing into a pocket, 'I don't know what the bloody hell is wrong with you guys, especially you,' he aimed a glare at Angel, 'but I'd say Green is the only one here with his priorities straight.'

'He's running on emotion, instinct, he's not thinking,' Angel said sadly.

'Instinct is all we've got,' Spike shot back. 'But it's usually right, I know its right here. And yeah it might get him killed, but he's more _likely_ to get killed if he goes on his own.' Lorne had made some head way and was already a hundred yards or so ahead of him but Spike set off at a pace to catch up. 'You need some back up mate; you got it, just find me a shady spot before that sun gets too high and…'

The blizzard roared up from the snow covered ground and sent him flying backwards towards Angel and the others. Spike spluttered, the flakes blinding him and the icy chill burying into his body. Lorne turned back briefly, barely slowing his step enough to see the wall of Novica's storm separate him from his friends. It only served to anger him more. Someone was playing games with him, and with his daughter's life. The dark shapes of his friends behind the tempest appeared and disappeared as it thickened, and so with his head bent against the wind Lorne turned back to LA and vanished into the storm. He'd lost Sasha, he wouldn't lose his daughter too and if he had to go it alone, he would.

-- --

Fairy princess. Princess in the tower. The tall spirals of the mystical building loomed over the frozen desert that had once baked in sunshine. Icicles draped themselves from window ledges and rooftops, and everything shone with the silvery luminescence of frost. It had a Disneyland appeal, a quaint prettiness which belied its foundations in evil. She felt out of place in her basic daywear, too solid and human in the ethereal surroundings. She wished she could become as transparent as the glass in the windows or as delicate as the icy patterns which formed on the surface. She wanted to disappear, float translucently; she wanted to fit this world. She wanted to be numb.

Sasha wrapped her arms around herself and gazed down over the wastelands that stretched before Novica's palace. In the distance she could see LA, the dark red rent in the sky through which Wolfram and Hart's hell dimension poured but in the last few minutes it had dimmed a little. Novica's power, restrained and bound for so long, was wrecking its revenge, beating back the boundaries. She could almost sense the confusion from the forces of evil behind the blizzard which was forging forward. She watched impassively and tried to imagine the shockwaves which would fall across the dimensions; she tried to care. She knew that this wasn't supposed to happen; Wolfram and Hart were rooted in evils which were ancient and undefeated.

It just so happened the thing behind her was more ancient than they were. She listened absently to his presence. His voice ordered away his demon servants with calm ease and she dropped her eyes as she felt him approach. He looked the same as he ever had but dressed differently now in something becoming his status. As he walked she could hear the swish of his silver blue robes on the cold floor. He hummed as he made his way about the room, towards her, his hands slipping around her waist and covering her folded arms with his. Despite the snow and ice, the blizzard battling the apocalypse on his behalf, despite all of this cold, he was warm. When she looked again out of the window the crumbling world seemed a million miles away. It didn't matter; any of it.

'Whatcha lookin' at?' he said playfully into her ear. 'Ooo is it my apocalypse? Isn't it pretty!' his eyes were wide and mischievous as he surveyed the scene.

Sasha said nothing, her face still and empty. Novica cocked his head and regarded her profile with curiosity, his dark eyes taking in each feature. He was filled with delight and chirpy goodwill, it had all gone to plan and now here, barely raising a finger, he was conquering everything this paltry dimension could throw at him. Not to mention some stuff Wolfram and Hart were trying to throw from another dimension altogether. The Amulet had given back to him the ultimate power of his deity, he felt fulfilled and at ease, and yet Sasha troubled him, tugged at him and disturbed him more than he liked to admit.

No spell, no magics, no thrall and yet she was utterly motionless; a defeated slayer who had lost no particular battle but who refused to fight on. She had drifted from good to evil with alarming ease; joining forces with him and then on his succession to deity remaining passively by his side. It was as though something in her had broken and she'd shut down completely; it was as though she was slowly dying. Sadness crossed Novica's face, he was a creature who could appreciate power in all its forms and it pained him to see it give up so suddenly. Deep in his chest something ached for her.

'How can I cheer up my little cupcake?' he asked with the softest of tones. Sasha flinched at the endearment and his smile faltered a little. Lorne was still in there somewhere, her mind and heart still harped on him despite her newfound allegiance to Novica, despite this emptiness she felt. Not to worry, what he had just seen in the mirror reassured him that Lorne wouldn't trouble her much longer. One less thing for her broken spirit to deal with.

With his mind he reached out across the desert and stirred the blizzard at his command and then with and easy motion he nuzzled back at Sasha's neck. When she didn't respond he pursed his lips and let his hands caress her gently for a moment before being struck with inspiration. He became animated once more, released her and stepped back a little.

'There!' he said happily, 'Now you look the part!'

Sasha blinked and knit her brows. He nodded in the direction of her body and she looked down at herself and the pale dress she now wore. Novica held out one hand and beckoned her towards him, 'Come on sweetie, if that hasn't done the trick then this surely will, come on, come one,' he waved her forward and grasped her hand, steering her to the centre of the room where his oval mirror stood. 'Now you can see how pretty you look.'

He stood over her shoulder and gazed at his creation, the full length dress, the hint of sparkle. He smoothed her hair and noted with pleasure the shine of it; he let his hands move over her 

bare shoulders sensing the fine muscles and power within her soft and feminine body. Sasha's eyes caught his in the glass and she watched him smile in response but her eyes were still blank. Novica stood watching her image.

'What's happening in the city?' she asked at last. His smile faltered again, why couldn't she just be here with him, not wondering about all that messy stuff. Where was she?

'You mean, did you join with the right side?' he chided, 'Huh well I can't blame you for asking it was all a little… unexpected… even for me… and I'm omniscient,' he paused, 'I suppose I wasn't omniscient at that point come to think of it,' he shrugged the thought away. 'Well here we go; if it cheers you up I'll show you.'

He waved the mirror into activation and the images radiated across the room, dark and red, fiery and hellish. Sasha squinted through the smoke and shadows, at the creatures marauding the streets of LA and the devastation they managed.

'The lawyers' front line,' Novica commented, 'Traditional hell beasties fire and brimstone… and oh look… here I come…'

In the mirror the colours of the city began to change, a frozen mass cascading over the burning shells of buildings and cars, damping down fires and freezing demons in their tracks. It seemed almost effortless; the crackle of ice broadcasting dimly through the glass as though Novica had turned down the volume.

'I'm winning,' he grinned. 'Wolfram and Hart are having their ass firmly kicked… or you know… frozen.' The mirror focused on the frozen carcass of a dragon, strewn abandoned on a street corner, its claws already encrusted with tiny icicles. 'Ice is so underestimated,' he said, 'all this fire and destruction, it's so noisy and messy. Ice just creeps up and ends it all, no big bang, no huge battle, no anger or violence or rampaging beasts. Just ice and silence. Total calm. One minute there is all the chaos of existence and the next,' he made a level motion with one hand, 'Just the quiet.'

'I want that,' she said and he looked at her sharply, his eyebrows rising in interest. Sasha watched as the snow began to fall around the dragon, burying its limbs rapidly under heavy flakes. From the raging war she had witnessed moments before there was now nothing but calm. She craved calm. She felt her mind unravel with everything which had happened, nothing was simple anymore, nothing was good or evil. Did it matter which side won if this silence was the result.

Novica smiled softly and leaned against her, his chin in her hair, stooping now to plant a soft kiss on her head, the scent of her and a curious protectiveness washing over him.

'I can give you anything you want,' he said, 'but especially that, the quiet.' He closed his eyes and felt within himself, for the power that would enable him to give Sasha that perfect calm for all time. A thing he reserved only for those special followers. Something which would remove pain and anguish and fill them instead with the timelessness of existence such as he felt. When he had been human he had struggled with the immediacy of life, with the constant daily struggle and the need to battle on, with feelings and needs and demands. As a god he had drifted and bided his time, content in his power, content in his eternity. His heart was formed purely of ice, a glittering silent magical source of his power buried in his chest. 

He could give her a taste of that; a reward for her sudden loyalty to him. He moved his hands to rest over her heart and drew breath.

Sasha jerked away and his eyes flew open. But it wasn't his touch which alarmed her. 'Aviline!' she cried and she grabbed at his arm and held it to her, pointing with her other hand at the mirror before letting it fall by her side. Novica glanced up and cursed quietly to himself before waving the image away. But it was too late, he felt the jolt of emotion run through her, her eyes no longer blank they fixed to the spot in the glass where she had seen them. Lucy and her baby fighting their way through the ruined city, the last of the demons pursuing them and Novica's blizzard in their wake.

-- --

As Angel fought against the blizzard outside the others gathered in a corner of the darkened gas station and watched him. They had dug their way through the snow which had settled around the building, obscuring its doors, battered all the while by Novica's winter. His forces were deliberately keeping them from Lorne and now that she was safe inside Fred couldn't help but let the tears well up. Wesley slipped a consoling arm around her but she shrugged him away. She felt betrayed by him, he had sided with Angel.

'Little help here would be great,' Angel called, the door forcing itself back into the little shop, he heaved against it once, twice, grunting with the exertion while behind him Spike lit up a cigarette and glared at him unhelpfully. He'd tried again to get through the blizzard to help Lorne but had failed. Squinting through it he had soon lost track of Lorne's slim figure and had no choice but to retreat with the others. Didn't make him feel any better about it. He blew a jet of smoke upwards and said nothing as Angel finally slammed the door into place. Outside the wind instantly died, its task complete, and the gas station fell into silence.

Angel turned to face a wall of his companions, Spike glowering at him darkly, Wesley running a hand distractedly through his hair and casting worried glances at Fred whose stifled sobs were the only sound in the room.

'I'm going back out there,' Spike said after a pause, 'Just you try and stop me. Let the God king get busy with something else and I'll sneak out when he's not looking.' He took another drag and turned his back on Angel, preferring instead to flick through the abandoned newspapers on the counter. Angel looked from him to Fred who returned his stare through a haze of tears.

'I'll go with him,' she said.

'Don't be ridiculous,' Wesley said suddenly. 'You saw the forces at work out there, we don't stand a chance. We'll freeze to death.'

'Not a problem for some of us,' Spike said quietly, 'Is it Angel?'

Fred's stare wouldn't leave him, nor what she had said about him leaving her to die. Angel drifted uncomfortably and looked away, glancing at the windows and the settling snow outside. He could barely see past the gathering flakes on the pane, cutting off the light, and room around him was gloomy as a result.

'You're going to help him,' Fred said levelly. 'You got him out of Wolfram and Hart, what's the big difference here?'

'He had no choice over Wolfram and Hart, they had him prisoner. I was told to get him out. He chose to go back for Aviline. I tried to stop him and couldn't.'

'So you stopped us instead,' Spike remarked. 'Lorne was right, none of us should take orders from you.'

'I know… I know…' Angel said softly, 'I'm sorry…Look things have… changed,' he managed, 'a lot has changed since…'

'Since you got us all killed,' Spike said, 'Most of us I mean, some of us were already dead, but that's not really the point. Oh sod it I'm going back out there,' he dropped the cigarette to the floor and crushed it with his boot, 'we're wasting time, and it's better than sitting here waiting for Captain Inaction to make a move.'

'No!' Angel blocked his way, placing his body between Spike and the door. Spike recoiled and glared at his past rival with a flicker of his old hatred.

'You want to get out of my way, mate,' he said, 'You might not think this is a job for the cavalry but I don't leave my friends in crappy situations. What's the matter with you? Its half your fault we're in this mess. Weren't you supposed to destroy that Amulet, didn't the PTB send you over here to do just that?'

'Yes… but…'

'But what? You got sidetracked? You didn't think it was a task worthy of you? Left me and the Artist Formerly Known as Dead over there to try and figure it out,' he nodded at Wesley. 'Get. A. Bloody. Grip.' Spike pushed Angel to one side, 'I'm going out there.'

Spike dived for the door and almost the instant it was opened the blizzard began again.

'Bit of snow never hurt a vamp!' he yelled at the sky.

'Spike!' Angel's voice deep with concern.

The sky above parted and the blizzard halted. Thick rays of pale winter sunshine beat down over the ice and Spike lunged inside smoking.

'Arse!' he shouted. 'The bloody sky is eavesdropping!'

-- --

They were still coming for them. As fast as she could move, as fast as she could beat them back they were still following her. Lucy careered over the rubble, stumbling and tripping, grazing herself, falling and breaking that fall with one outstretched arm, the other holding Aviline close to her. She couldn't outrun them and they were headed on the same path as she 

was. Trying to fight there way out of the city, trying to battle against the encroaching ice, the demons which fell from the rent in the sky were headed out of LA. Just like her.

She gasped for breath, bracing herself for the burn of the sulphur, catching instead a gasp of ice. She must be close to the boundary now. Between one hell and another. The earth shook again and the last remains of the buildings around her crumbled. She fell and as she pushed herself upward she saw them, a dozen scavenging demons, their skins smouldering with the fires they brought from the hell dimension,. Their faces distorted by skin charred over and over again.

The slayer staggered backward, the baby screaming now high and frightened. Lucy tipped and threatened to lose her balance. Spinning on her heel to try and seek an alternative route out, but as she spun the walls around her collapsed, pinning her into the tight street. The demons approached, leisurely and intrigued by this soft human thing before them. They had been disappointed with the pickings so far tonight. Lucy felt her stomach churn as the nearest slide out a scarred and blackened tongue and let it rasp across its lips.

'It's going to be OK, it's going to be OK,' she repeated under her breath. A sudden teasing movement from a creature to her right made her jump instinctively. Like a dog teased by its owner with a ball. Going to throw it this way, going to throw it that. Not going to throw it at all. She felt the muscles in her legs tighten, the anger surge up in her. The demon jabbed at her again, before leaning back with pleasure at her obvious fear. It was taunting her, working her up into more terror than she already felt. She was hindered, she knew that, by the baby in her arms, by fatigue, by inexperience, but she still had something they didn't. She had something timeless. Chosen. She was Chosen.

The things leered closer.

'Well come on you bitch,' she shouted suddenly, 'If you're going to do it, do it!' Aviline cried harder against her and in the sky a jet of flame ripped through Novica's churning purple clouds. For a moment they simply looked at her, and she felt her heart rise, she could do this, she could protect them both, her and Lorne's baby, she had something they didn't have, she was stronger than they would ever be, and she felt the hope burst into her chest, into her muscles, honing her, strengthening her…

… and then they came.

-- --

Sasha dropped to her knees before the mirror and the scene unfolded in mute Technicolor. The demons were all over the young slayer, she was completely overwhelmed and with an anguished cry Sasha watched as she lost grip of Aviline, the baby falling hard in the rubble, knocked aside by the flying claws of their attackers.

She turned to Novica desperately, 'Do something!'

He blinked at her incomprehensibly.

'Please!' she begged. 'Please help them!'

Novica raised one eyebrow, 'I don't think you're getting this sweetie. I'm a hell god. God. Of. Hell.' He spelled it out for her. 'Bad things happen when I am in charge. Evil stuff. I can't _save_ lives,' he looked at the mirror, 'it's against all my principles, and besides, I don't have the right license for it.' He cast an amused glance at one of his blue skinned worshippers who cackled appreciatively at his master's wit.

Sasha looked between them in disbelief and terror.

'They're killing her! They're killing both of them! Are you really going to let this happen? She's my baby, she's everything… she….' Sasha stopped her eyes drifting away from Novica and back to the mirror. 'I just left her…' she whispered.

Novica crouched beside her their faces inches from the mirror.

'Yes you did, you just left her and came with me. _I'm_ your everything now sweetie. Your world is gone, you made a choice remember. Live with it.'

Novica stood and left her kneeling by the glass but he moved only a few paces before he felt it. The strength of her hurt was coming off of her in waves, and he remembered now why he had allowed her to come with him for his ascension. She was his weakness that part of him that remained tainted by humanity depended on her, craved her.

'I left my baby,' she whispered.

He looked back at her crouching shaking form. She was barely recognisable as the Slayer. Had he done that? Why should he care if he had? Why did it matter? What had he really expected from this set up? To play happy families? He'd done it to hurt Lorne, all of it; he'd never expected to actually… _feel. _He frowned and felt the strange ache in his chest he had felt earlier. He only ever felt it with her.

He breathed out slowly and looked for inspiration. Those demons were nothing to do with him. They were Wolfram and Hart's creatures, and the longer they were distracted by the super-wench the more damage, he, Novica, could inflict on another part of the city. Aviline and Lucy, just casualties of his war.

But Aviline had once shared a shell with Levinia, the daughter he had killed eons before. He looked at Sasha again and thought of Illyria's vengeance, the bitterness which had plagued her for their daughter's murder, it had lasted centuries. Would Sasha be that way if he let the child die?

He knew then he couldn't bear it and he cursed his weakness. When she had lain with him that night and made her choice, when he had looked down into her eyes, Novica had felt something he had never guessed he would feel in all his years of existence. She didn't love him, he knew that, but he wanted her to.

He swept his hands over his face and looked up at the ornate ceiling of ice above him before closing his eyes and sending out a silent command. Inside the ache eased just a little.

And in the mirror the ice encroached further and the demons howled in pain.

-- --

Lorne landed headfirst in the ice, his hands sinking deep in the snow and burning with the pain of the cold. For a moment he rested, his breath coming in short gasps, freezing as he exhaled, glittering in the winter sunlight. The blizzard had left him alone, channelled itself to LA, he wasn't sure if that made this journey any easier or not. It was so cold, he ached with it, and the wasteland seemed to stretch for more miles than the road ever had. But he had to keep moving. In his mind he could feel her, his baby, somewhere in that city.

'I'm coming sweetie,' he muttered and pushed himself up on his arms. Damn Angel. Damn all of them. Damn the apocalypse and everything and anything which had come between him and his daughter. He cursed at himself for ever getting so caught up in it. This was not what he was about, he was the peaceable one, the one with the extremely limited powers and he wasn't cut out to juggle being a father with being a…

'Oh… no…' he groaned. He could feel the heat moving through his body, the aura that came before he left himself to go to the Other World. 'Not now, now is not a great time…' It moved down through his arms and he saw the snow around his fingers melt quickly as though someone had poured hot water over the ground. 'No I won't do this now; I have to get to…'

'Hello Lorne,' the Pool in the Greater Hall greeted him. Lorne reached back to the weapon he had over his shoulder and slung it hard at the waters. In an instant the liquid surged upwards and caught it, sucking it down safely into their depths. 'You have a mission,' the water went on unperturbed.

'No! What are you thinking of bringing me here now!' Lorne shouted, 'Aviline's trapped in the city, I'm on my way to…'

'We know.'

'Well if you know why bring me here. Whichever soul has strayed I can redirect them later. In fact give them a map, give them a tour guide and a bus pass, just don't make it me, not today!'

The water lapped impassively beneath his glare.

'I don't think you want to pass up this mission,' Willow's voice. Lorne turned to find her hovering by the pool in all her PTB finery. The waters stirred and an image appeared. Aviline lay crying in the frozen rubble of a ruined building. Lucy a little way from her, trying to crawl across the jagged stone. Lorne stepped closer to the pool and looked down, his breath catching in his throat. In the background he could see demons, circling the ground where the ice had failed to reach them.

'There isn't much time,' Willow said. 'You need to be there.'

'But... but I can't appear to anyone unless… oh god… no… please no…'

Willow caught his thoughts 'The Walker can only appear to those who have experience death or who are near death,' his eyes flicked up to her with burning concern. 'So you'd better 

make sure they don't die.'

'How? I'm powerless, I can't touch, I can't fight, I can't use weapons, I'm a phantom in this form,' he felt himself flicker in and out of the Other World. A creeping coldness covering his body. The image in the water changed to reveal himself, lying flat and still in the ice, the first snowflakes settling on his body.

Willow fixed him with her large green eyes and said simply, 'Hurry, trust your powers, trust what's inside. Go.'

Lorne's phantom vanished and Willow followed. The Greater Hall grew dim and the waters dried. They couldn't exist if there was no-one to exist for.

-- --

Spike had his face pressed to the glass of the gas station window. He'd tried three separate times to go outside and on each the elements had produced sunshine to defeat him. He looked back into the room, at Fred and Wesley who sat opposite each other in silence, and at Mr Billowy Coat King of Pain who was brooding un-usefully by the soft drinks cabinet. Spike huffed and looked out at the ice. Every now and then his eye caught the movement of something slim and blue. Novica's followers. They were spreading over the ice, confident that this time their leader would not be removed. God if those things were crawling over the snow he didn't like to think what had happened to Lorne. Killed? Captured? He rubbed at the inside of the pane where the frost had coated it and peered out.

'I think you need a little help.'

Spike spun round to find Willow by his shoulder. Wesley jumped in his seat.

'Too right I do, you took your time didn't you.'

'We don't interfere unless absolutely necessary,' Willow said, 'and this is… absolutely necessary. Sorry Spike you're not going to like this.'

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 'Not going to like what?'

'Your own personal weather system,' Willow snapped her fingers and the rain cloud which had plagued Spike during his zombie burying spell in the cemetery months before re-materialised. It drizzled sadly on his head but to Fred and Wesley's surprise Spike's sullen face broke out in a wide grin.

'Bloody brilliant!' he laughed and glanced up at the dark cloud. He jumped to the left and it followed him faithfully.

'Find Lorne,' Willow said.

Spike's face became serious. 'He in trouble then? Blue meanie get him? Novica?'

'No-one yet. Just find him, that magic won't last forever, so get him, and bring him back here, don't head onto the city to look for the others…'

Spike opened his mouth to protest.

'I mean it Spike, bring him back here where it's safe.'

Angel exchanged a glance with Spike. 'I said didn't I, I said he shouldn't go and now he's in danger… would it hurt you guys to just listen to me, I know I've made mistakes but this was common sense, he was alone and …'

Willow rounded on him angrily. 'You mister can just shut up, right now. You are not the Boss, you threw that away last year…'

Angel raised his eyebrows.

'And I didn't see you rushing to Lorne's aid,' Willow said more calmly. She held up a hand to silence him. 'I guess you're here now, and I know you've not exactly had the best of years either,' Wesley looked between them curiously and Angel raised an unconscious hand to his scarred face. 'You will explain yourself,' Willow said, 'To everyone, _including_ Lorne, but not right now. Suffice to say right now there's more important stuff happening, go find him Spike,' Willow directed.

'Count on it,' he opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine, his faithful rain cloud splattering over him and shading him from the light.

Wesley guffawed, 'Remarkable.'

'Gotta be somewhere,' Willow said quickly, 'Wait here, _all _of you, for the others. And you…' she addressed Angel for the last time, her voice changing from her hurried authority to regret, 'Cordelia's disappointed in you, for all of it, what happened last year, for the way you've hidden from your friends when they needed you. She should have been doing this job, not me, she's your guardian… but she couldn't bear to look at you.'

She vanished and for a minute Wesley regarded the vampire with level eyes.

'I think you should tell us where you've been, don't you?' he said.

-- --

The more courageous of the demons were edging forward again as Lorne materialised. The ice had jolted them from complacency and driven them backwards but there was nothing to actually prevent them from attacking Lucy again. It caused them pain to walk on its surface; they were creatures of fire and embers, but they were also demons and a little pain wasn't a problem.

Lucy was still trying to pull herself over the rubble. There was blood on her face, a gash across her forehead which trickled down into her eyes. She blinked and tried to wipe away the stinging fluid, smearing it over her arms where it joined with the grazes and cuts she had obtained during the fight. Her skin was burned in patches where the demons flesh had seared into her.

'Aviline,' she called, 'Honey?' the baby was worryingly quiet, her cries had dwindled quickly from the high pitched terror which had accompanied the battle. Now she was silent. 'Aviline?' The ice crackled under her body as she moved, and in the distance behind her Lorne could see the hovering shapes of Novica's blue skinned minions. She was trapped between the two warring sides.

Lorne blinked and he was standing over Aviline, wishing upon hope that he could be solidly there to pick her up and cradle her. Her little face, her eyes closed, there were grazes on her skin. When he reached out instinctively his fingers passed through her and into the earth below. Lucy was oblivious to his presence, it had to be Aviline who was fading; it had to be her who needed the Walker. He covered his face briefly and then looked back at the child. Was this is mission, to lead his own baby to the Other World? The pain of that thought was insurmountable, it crushed him from the inside out and the deep chill in his body doubled. He found it hard to move, his mind felt tired and panicked.

'Think,' he muttered, 'Think for God's sake.'

A movement beside him and the demons were approaching. Again they took their time, fixing their prey with hungry eyes and causing Lucy to whimper with fear and pain. She lifted Aviline to her with one arm, the other swung loosely by her side, damaged, maybe broken. Pushing herself with her legs she edged backwards and away from them, deeper into the ice, but they kept coming, standing over her and leering down.

Lorne glanced around him, it was useless to look for weapons, he could touch nothing. He couldn't communicate with Lucy, advise or warn her, and what could he say anyway. He was here to watch his baby die, the thought echoed again and again. He was here to guide her to the Other World.

His eyes flicked upwards to the rent in the sky which overshadowed Wolfram and Hart. It was smaller than before, Novica's powers were great and Ice was winning, but it lingered still and creatures dropped through the gap from the dimensions beyond.

The dimensions beyond. He glared over at the creatures swarming the ruins and felt a surge of primal anger. It prickled its way up his back and choked him, a tightening pain in his throat, a sudden inability to see. Every incident which had ever angered him returned now, from the every injustice he had endured in Pylea to Angel's recent reappearance. Everything hurt.

He wanted to scream and he _felt_ what he had to do next. He felt it because he was damned if they were going to take his child. Not her, Sasha might be lost to him, the whole world might be disintegrating around him and his friends; he was disillusioned, heartbroken and burdened with the legacy of the Walker, but he wouldn't let them touch his baby.

Lorne moved and stood in front of Lucy suddenly secure and certain in his role. He looked deep inside, past the shifting colours of his aura, past his memories and emotions and deeper still. He found it there, the thing he was looking for, and as the first demon's hand reached through his phantom body he raised his voice and told them all:

'You don't belong.'

The power flew from him in an arc of gold and silver, a breeze which tousled his hair and caused him to lean back into its warmth. He closed his eyes and let it pour from him. It blasted across the ruins and knocked each demon flying from its feet. The rent in the sky above convulsed and the crimson and purples which burned there blanched white. As suddenly as Lorne had found his power the creatures which had spilled over the city were hauled backwards through the rift in dimensions. Returned to their rightful place. He had never thought it possible but in moments the landscape in front of him was empty and smouldering, the sky above closing, its colours changing. Lorne lowered his head, the light fading from him and his eyes opening, he was aware that he felt whole and solid, the power running through him and lending him shape. He let go a long breath and turned to see Lucy staring up at him.

'Wow,' she muttered. Around them fragments of debris floated and settled to the ground, carried by the breeze of Lorne's magics.

'You can see me?' he asked.

'You're… you're fading…' she said.

Lorne glanced behind her. Novica's demons were still there and so was the winter; they watched silently from the ice, poised for orders. His actions had quelled Wolfram and Hart's apocalypse but not the Old One.

'You have to move,' Lorne said, 'You have to get out of the city…'

'How? I can't even see a way anymore, it's all just ruined… Lorne, don't fade… Lorne stay!' the girl looked up at him with large desperate eyes. 'I can't do this on my own it's too much.'

Lorne felt the instincts move deep inside him again and with the last of his powers he leaned forward and touched Aviline lightly.

'Look after my baby,' he said, 'I'll be with you, don't worry.' His image faltered and he was lost to her. He saw her gazing around for him, the tears trickling over her face. In her arms she felt Aviline move.

Lucy's eyes widened and for a second she thought she saw something around the baby, something pale and soft, a faint glow, an echo of Lorne's, but it passed as quickly as it had come. In its place Lucy's mind flashed a vision into her consciousness, a path to follow; through the dark and ruined city Aviline's psychic powers mapped a route for them both.

Lorne smiled when he saw the recognition in Lucy's eyes. Aviline would get them out of there safely, even if he couldn't be their guide, 'That's my girl,' he said, 'use what you've got, sweetie, use what daddy gave you.'

Lucy gathered herself together and began to make her way out of the rubble. It was a slow process hampered by the debris and her injuries but Novica's creatures did nothing to hinder them. As he hovered by her side Lorne looked back at the scattering of blue demons waiting watchfully on the ice and even as the slayer grew closer to the boundaries of LA and to the ice wasteland beyond they did nothing. He looked down into Lucy's arms at the bundle she carried and dismissed the doubts from his mind. As long as they were safe, as long as Aviline 

was going to make it he didn't care what Novica was up to. It was time to focus on what was actually important, his daughter. Though far from relaxed Lorne felt a burden shift from him.

But as they moved through the city Lorne felt colder and colder.

-- --

The images on the mirror vanished, Lucy and Aviline were lost to the glass. Novica slid from his throne and stood by the slayer who was kneeling where he had left her. She had been watching Lucy's progress with fearful eyes, trapped and powerless in the fortress Novica had built and she had chosen to live in, and far away from her daughter. She'd seen Novica call forth the Ice and beat back Wolfram and Hart's army. She'd seen his own demons remain still and watchful, his command to leave the child alone holding them immobile. She'd seen that Aviline was safe.

But amongst all these things she'd also seen Lorne. For a brief moment as the wall of hell beasts had flown backwards from the rubble, when the golden light had arced forward and restored the balance between dimensions, she had seen him materialise.

'What was that?' she asked.

Novica chewed on his lip. He didn't want to be having this conversation. The kid was going to be OK; could they just get on with ruling the world now?

'Novica?' she looked up at him, knowing he knew the answer. The blankness of her expression was gone and he saw the glitter in her eyes as a mark of danger. Mommy bear had woken up.

'The Walker of Worlds,' he said simply, 'he has a little power now… though I have to admit I didn't think he'd have _that_ much.'

Sasha gazed back at the empty glass, her hands resting lightly on her lap as she knelt. She remembered the jolt of terror she had felt on seeing Aviline in danger. She could only assume Lorne had felt something similar. That was the source of his power, she was certain; and it was the source of hers now. There were things out there trying to hurt her baby, and she'd let her down. Well now no-one was ever going to hurt her baby again.

She felt awake, alive, in control for the first time in days. The strange dulling of her senses, the confusion which had masked her instincts was lifting. She laughed derisively at her own idiocy. Why was she here? To test herself? To figure out if the Mission was real? To experiment with good and evil? Her mind raced with images of the past, with everything that had happened in the last year. With the intensity of Novica's love making, with the betrayal she had felt when she realised it wasn't Lorne, with the overwhelming need she had felt to hit self destruct, to just let go and stop coping with the demons and the hell creatures, with the whole slayer gig.

What was she doing hiding in her Ivory Tower with the creature who stole Lorne's face. Had she really been fooled by him? Sometimes when he spoke she heard Lorne's tones, sometimes when he moved his gait would be the demon's. Sometimes they were so similar they merged in her memories; but they weren't the same. They could never be the same.

Enough of it. All of it. All this time she had wasted wondering what her purpose was, if she could trust Lorne, trust the others, if she was a girl, a slayer or a mother, what she should give up on or pursue, what was real and what was wasn't.

Aviline was real. The terror she felt when she was in danger was real.

He saw the tensing of her muscles before she could employ them and as she sprang from her position he was already there, grasping her, overpowering her. She tried to wrench herself away, tussling with him, shocked at his strength. He was a God now, how could she forget.

'Did you think I'd just let you go?' he chided. Novica aimed a blow to her face which sent her reeling from his grasp. But it didn't free her, with an unseen force he caught her and held her still against one wall, then whipping her round he sent her hurtling to his throne where she struggled to release herself from the invisible bonds that chained her.

'I preferred you when you were hurting and lost,' he said, 'all needy and confused. If I had my way I'd never have let you see that,' he pointed at the mirror.

'I don't belong here,' Sasha wrestled in the throne. For a beat Novica's mind fluttered with indecision. She had been so empty before, she had been so lost and he had employed every trick he could to bring her up from that misery. It had disappointed and saddened him that the slayer had simply given up the fight; he had loved that about her, her strength. But at the same time without it she was his, she would grow to love him, and he had won that particular battle with Lorne.

'I won't have you leave,' he said.

'You don't have a choice,' she growled at him.

Novica smiled slowly. 'No, see you're wrong there… look around you… of the two of us here…who's the hell god with the power, hmm?' he raised his eyebrows brightly as he posed the question, 'Oh… that'd be me. Thanks for that though, you were a big help, and I'm really not done with you yet. You're my number one minion, you're going nowhere.'

As he advanced on her she ceased to struggle, spell bound for the first time since her arrival at the palace. She's been such an idiot, she had been free to choose and she had chosen him; now he was taking her choice from her. Novica reached inside to where his once human heart had formed itself of pure and magical ice. It was the source of his power, its solidity and cold was what made him what he was and he would share that now with her. When this was done she would want to stay, when this was over Aviline would mean nothing to her. Humanity and its messy emotions, they plagued him, they had plagued her and made her by turns miserable and empty when the primal power within her could be so much more. She could be his equal on so many levels, if she would just let go of that _mess_.

Novica leaned over the slayer as she sat marooned in his throne and with a soft movement leant his hand against her heart. She felt herself struggle briefly before the total paralysis of his power leached through her. In his eyes she saw the deep brown fade and a glimpse of the Old One within shone in the pupils, ice blue and cold.

Novica smiled when he saw the realisation in her face.

'Just a glamour, sweetie, just a trick, Lorne and I are nothing alike, he isn't a part of me,' he gloated. And then the ache in his chest rose up again. He flinched and for a second his eyes blanched brown again.

'Please don't do this,' she murmured. He blinked away the indecision; he blinked away the feelings that bothered him every time he was with her, the feelings he craved and hated equally. He would end those now. He would make it simple. His instincts battled with him to stop, this beautiful strong woman was never meant to be controlled. But he pushed them aside and let the magic take her. The silver and blues of the Old One shimmered in his pupils again. Sasha moaned as he leaned forward, feeling the power slice into her.

The cold in his eyes surrounded her heart and she felt it freeze and crack.

'Shhh,' he whispered softly, 'You're just like me now.'

-- --

His rain cloud was fading, instead of water it was hailing down onto his head. Tampered with by Novica's magic snowstorm no doubt. He'd have to go back to the gas station if he didn't find them soon, or end up as a super-sized portion of crispy fried vampire. He cast his eyes over the horizon. An hour or so before the crimsons of Wolfram and Hart's best apocalypse had been rebuffed by a wave of golden light he could only assume had been Lorne doing his supernatural gig. He'd punched the air and yelled 'Go Green!' but since then worry had superseded triumph. He had to find Lorne before he froze to death.

There was nothing out there. No landmarks no shapes, no suspicious looking piles of snow that might make a fellow think there was a half frozen Pylean under there. He turned his face up to the rain cloud and asked it, 'Any ideas?'

Almost as soon as the question had left his lips the cloud zipped to the right and he was left scampering it after it to stay out of the sun. 'Couldn't have been this useful earlier mate,' he remarked as he followed. 'Save me trudging around the snow for a couple of hours… hey hold up!'

The cloud had darted away and waited hovering a few yards ahead. Spike dived under its cover panting and then saw why it had stopped.

'Oh, hell,' he swore.

He dropped to his knees and began to dig in the fresh settled snow. It was light and fluffy and a cloud of it sprang up in his face as he worked. It flurried around him in the light breeze which crossed the wasteland and made him splutter as he clawed handfuls from Lorne's body. The demon was a good foot under the drift, his skin vibrant against the brilliant white, his eyes closed against the cold.

'Lorne, Lorne!' Spike flipped him over on the ground with an easy movement. He brushed the snow from his face and then slapped him hard across the cheek. 'Lorne, mate, come on, wake up you bugger!'

'Spike!' Lucy's voice, faint and distant. He glanced up to see her making her way across the snow. One arm hung limply, the other carried Aviline and he could see even from this distance that the kid was OK, a small hand reached up and grasped at Lucy's sweater as she walked. 'Spike, what is it?' she began to trot towards him.

'I dunno,' Spike was saying helplessly, 'it's Lorne, I think he's frozen or something, I don't know.'

'Can't you see him?'

'Well yeah he's right here,' Spike pointed at his body.

'No, I mean _him_, astral Lorne, he was with me… you're dead you should be able to see him!' Spike swung round at her words and scanned the horizon.

'No, nothing!'

'Oh god,' the tears came to Lucy's eyes and she held Aviline closer, 'he helped us, you should have seen what he did, there was all this light and…'

'Yeah yeah… I saw… it was very pretty… Lorne!' Spike shook him hard. 'We need to get him warm or something, come on, Lorne!' he drew his hand back and let fall a hard blow to Lorne's cheek.

'Ouch,' the voice said behind him. Spike looked up and saw the flickering image of a pissed off Lorne hovering by his side, arms folded. 'You know there are much more gentle ways of bringing me round… you _mook_!' Lorne's eyes widened theatrically. He waited for them to hear the penny drop and then gave up and commanded, 'Baby!' he nodded to Aviline.

'What?'

Lorne rolled his eyes. Lucy held her breath as she watched the half conversation between Spike and thin air.

'Give me the baby, give me Aviline.'

'But you're all floaty, you can't hold a baby…'

Lorne looked upwards in despair. 'Not me you big palooka, _me, _over _there_!' he gesticulated at his body.

'Oh!' Spike dived for Aviline and Lucy sprang back in annoyance, cradling instead her busted arm. The vampire dropped un-gainfully to his knees and placed the baby on Lorne's chest. He sat back. 'Now what?'

'Now I… Oh…' Lorne's phantom stopped mid sentence and smiled, 'It's working…'

'Bloody hell he's vanished again!'

'Look,' Lucy said quietly.

The same golden light she had felt from Aviline earlier in the day was surrounding her now, just briefly, just long enough she supposed to do the trick, and as they stood watching they became aware of the snow around Lorne melting slowly. He was returning to himself and the heat of that magic thawed him. He stirred briefly, settling back into his body after a long spell away and with his eyes still half closed he reached up to hold his daughter to him.

'Hey, peach pie,' he whispered, 'daddy's home.'


	14. Chapter 14: Frozen

'_Please don't do this,' she murmured. He blinked away the indecision. His instincts battled with him to stop, this beautiful strong woman was never meant to be controlled. But he pushed them aside and let the magic take her. The silver and blues of the Old One shimmered in his pupils again. Sasha moaned as he leaned forward, feeling the power slice into her._

_The cold in his eyes surrounded her heart and she felt it freeze and crack._

'_Shhh,' he whispered softly, 'You're just like me now.'_

_-- --_

**Something powerful. Below the snow; beneath the ruins, spinning away from the destruction which came in waves above. First fire then ice, the dance between Wolfram and Hart and the Old One, Novica; beneath them, something greater. It felt the vibrations of their war, their petty battle and it mourned for the time it had walked above but fate had leant an unexpected hand. In the darkness of its prison it tugged listlessly at its bindings, felt the iron at its neck, the stone against its skin, hot and cold with the conflict from which it fed. At its feet the broken earth spewed forth hot lava, a symptom of the destruction raining above and a source of power for the thing which waited below. Had they forgotten, after all this time? Were they so engrossed with their rivalry, the glamour of apocalypse that they neglected the root of it all?**

**It beat again at the pillars and felt the dust fly from the stone, inhaled it, savoured the erosion of time. The chains creaked. It fed on the guts of the earth.**

**Yes, they had forgotten.**

**Something evil this way comes.**

-- --

He saw it enter her, surround her heart and freeze it. He felt the heat drain from her body and the colour from her face; his magic, his power, holding her there with him, frozen. She could never leave him now; Sasha would remain by his side, in this castle as she had once chosen willingly to do.

But the choice troubled him, even as he filled her with magic and watched the life fall from her, this nagging doubt, this blasted humanity which he had carried since his re-emergence into this dimension, it ate away at him. It made him weak, it made him wonder. Novica closed his eyes so he didn't have to watch. He wanted it over, he wanted her completely on his side, a part of him, but he didn't want to see the process which would kill her.

Before him she was motionless, impaled at his fingertips as the ice flowed through her. She wanted to plead with him, she wanted him to see what he was doing was wrong, but above all she just wanted him to stop. If he didn't she was finished. She could feel death at her heart, solid, dark and cold. She couldn't prevent it, it was consuming her. Her mind rallied and then lost thread of thought. She saw her parents, her lovers, her child. She saw each thing she had fought, felt every wound she had been given, every claw, knife edge and weapon which had touched her skin. She felt the weight of a stake in her hand, the heat of sunlight on her skin. It was fading. Everything was fading. Her eyelids flickered closed, the weight of the ice in her 

chest drowning her, halting her breath. Novica's face vanished from view and there was only the dark. It would take her, this power would take her, and there was no going back.

-- --

Lorne's legs went from under him so suddenly that only Spike had time to lunge forward and prevent demon and baby tumbling into the snow. Even as he grabbed at Lorne's arms the weight of the Pylean dragged him forward.

'Baby!' Spike yelled and Lucy clumsily took the child. Lorne slumped, hands in the ice, breath heaving as though his chest was bound. He exhaled in clouds of white, the force of his lungs blowing away the dusty snow on the surface of the ice.

'Lorne!' Spike was kneeling, bracing him, trying to pull him up and out of the snow. 'Lorne!'

The demon gasped, pain in his throat, anguish leaching out with every syllable, he could barely speak, he could feel her leaving him, tearing from his body where she had lain dormant, he had thought she was already gone but he knew now that this was what it felt like. This was death, a part of him dying, the whole of her.

'Sasha,' he gasped. He doubled forward again against Spike, hot tears spattering the snow, melting in tiny pear shaped droplets, empty footprints in the ice. The fear came off him in waves, the distress ploughing through the auras of both Spike and Lucy. The pair exchanged panicked glances and felt the emotion build in their own hearts. They could feel it too, through Lorne and through the connection he shared with her.

She was fading. But not in a way he recognised. He had seen death, witnessed it at first hand, the gradual dimming of the aura, the soft demise that winked out in a smooth and natural rhythm. Even at the hands of violence it was there one moment gone the next. Simple and quick. Never this. Never this tearing dragging battle. He felt her struggle to hold on, clawing at this plane with every ounce of strength. She was grasping with fingertips and one by one they were being ripped away. She would not survive, he saw it.

Lorne opened his eyes and with sudden certainty spat the words into the snow.

'Take him with you. _Take him with you.'_

-- --

Novica yelped suddenly and tried to pull away, his eyes at one moment ice blue with magic, blanched brown and remained warm. Fear crossed his features and he stared down at the connection between them. He felt heat, not cold, heat travelling at first slowly up the length of his arm. He felt Sasha's body twitch and convulse. He glanced up again at her face, inhaling sharply.

'No!'

The heat rushed at him, flinging him away from her, severing the connection. It overwhelmed him, flushed him, the sweat prickled on his skin and he could feel his clothes clinging 

damply, hotly to his back. Just as he had filled her with his power she had sent something equally powerful into him, a swap which knocked him off balance and sent fire into his core. He skittered to a halt on the cool glassy floor, raising one arm to defend himself as she approached. From where he lay he could feel the ice flowing from her, a wave of cold which met him before she was even feet away. She stood over him, still, serene, complete.

He raised his eyes and followed the contours of her body, the limbs white and bloodless; a sheen of silver on the skin. A dead girl walking, she seemed to carry with her a breeze of frozen air which fluttered in her clothes and hair. Her hair. His eyes widened, as colourless as the rest of her it streamed behind her in whites and silvers. Instinctively he pushed backwards across the floor and his heart lurched when he saw her smile in response.

Slow and calculated, the smile crept jaggedly across her frozen lips. Sparkles of frost lay on their surface, glinting in the light of the castle. The smile never reached her eyes, deep set in a pinched death mask of marble skin. Novica felt the sob and tried to swallow it down. It was half of fear and half of regret. Her eyes were empty, their warm beauty gone, the irises colourless and pale and at their centre the pupils shimmered; alternating black and silver, silver and black.

Sasha bent suddenly, an inhuman snapping movement which ended with her leaning over his upturned face. She cocked her head and as she moved he heard the frozen crack of ice in her joints.

'Shh…' she mimicked his words to her moments before, 'I'm just like you now,' her tongue slithered over the icy lips with the same crackle as her joints. Her breath came in chill clouds which washed over his skin and made him flinch in pain.

'I was never this,' he spluttered. Sasha regarded him for a second longer and when she spoke again her voice was low and cracked, 'No, you're right, I'm _better _than you,' she corrected herself, 'I'm complete and I am more powerful that you ever could have been. You let your weakness take you, you are all weakness… inside…' he was edging backward, away from the cold breath, away from the translucent eyes, 'I should end you now,' she said following him. Her form seemed to flick from place to place about the room so that each time he turned she was there, level with him, her voice burning like frostbite into his skin. He scrambled to his feet and backed hastily towards the door but she was there, standing before him arms folded, cool eyes watchful.

'I'll give you a head start,' she said playfully, her voice dead of feeling. She tilted forward in her pose, a jerky unnatural movement which chilled him. Novica's heart picked up a pace and he felt the sweat begin to trickle between the muscles either side of his spine. She held the moment and for that second he couldn't move until she whispered:

'Run!'

Her laughter echoed harshly around the palace as he fled.

-- --

Fred ran forward as the doors to the gas station clattered open. Lorne, supported to either side by a slayer and Spike was half dragged into the dim building and slumped immediately into a 

chair. Spike broke his grip and rushed back to the door, hauling it shut against the gathering demons outside.

'I don't get it, they let us walk right through,' he said, 'it's like they don't know what they're doing.'

Wesley rose now and wiped a clearing in the frost on the window. Sure enough outside the gas station were a dozen or more of Novica's blue minions pacing slowly or standing aimlessly watching the patch on the horizon that represented their master's palace.

'Perhaps we simply don't interest them, or perhaps they're waiting for orders.'

'He's watching us,' Fred said. Crouched by Lorne she gently took Aviline from him and tried to read her father's expression. 'What happened out there? Did they attack you?'

'No,' he replied his voice soft, 'Nothing attacked me.'

'Yeah well someone needs to get back out there,' Spike said, 'And check it out the sky's getting gloomy again so I volunteer, whatever has happened to Sasha…'

'You're wasting your time,' Lorne said and all eyes fell to him. 'She's gone, I felt her go.' His voice wavered just slightly before he carried on. 'Thank you, Spike, for what you did, for me and for Aviline… but for Sasha…'

Spike's face registered the pain he saw in Lorne and with an awkward movement he sat by the demon. 'You did it… for Aviline and Lucy remember, that was down to you being bloody well amazing… and yeah I get what you're saying… I saw it in you… when she went… but I can't just sit here. If there's even a chance mate that she can be saved I'm right there, you get me?'

Lorne said nothing; his eyes were on the floor, moisture in the long lashes which framed them. Around him Fred and the others wore expressions of utter confusion and concern.

'You're so cold,' Fred's hand was on his and the icy chill disturbed her.

'Yes,' was all Lorne said.

'Sasha's hurt?' Fred ventured. 'Has Novica..? I'm not understanding. Why aren't we heading back there then? What happened out there?'

'He got us out,' Lucy piped up suddenly, 'Lorne got us out but we couldn't reach Sasha. We were trapped between Novica and the things Wolfram and Hart sent and Lorne… you should have seen it… one minute there were all these fire beast things and the next… pow!' she threw her arms wide. Fred raised her eyebrows expectantly.

'Pow what?'

'Pow I sent them back to where they came from,' Lorne said sadly. 'They didn't belong in this dimension, they had been brought here by illegitimate forces and I sent them back.'

'Good heavens!' Wesley practically skipped across the gas station floor. An image of the old watcher seemed to come over his otherwise rugged and tired features, his eyes widened and he panted at the prospect of the Walker of Worlds. 'I had no idea you were privy to such powers as that. You sent half an apocalypse reeling back into its home dimension?'

'Seems so…' Lorne's face was expressionless.

'But that's incredible… it's… it's… think of the potential we have here.'

'Potential _I_ have,' Lorne corrected, 'and I say who uses it.' His words were simple but there was steeliness behind his voice that caused Wesley to flinch. 'This isn't a party bucko,' Lorne went on, 'I'd very happily not have this responsibility right now so I could do without you guys making plans for my powers,' he shot a glance at Angel who remained quietly in the corner of the room. 'I don't take orders,' he reminded him.

Wesley backed away, 'Of course,' he said dryly. 'But there is still another half to this apocalypse that needs dealing with, Novica's half, and…'

'I can't send him back, the Pool in the Other World told me. He belongs here… don't ask me why but for whatever reason the PTB might have he…'

'He's needed,' Angel said quietly.

The room turned to look at him in the shadows by the counter. He flicked his eyes away and tensed his jaw. 'I guess I need to fill you all in,' he said looking back up at them apologetically, unsure now the moment had come. 'On everything, what happened last year, where I've been, why I came back.'

The silence consumed them and each member of the Team could feel their nerves tingle at the prospect of what they instinctively felt was bad news. All but Lorne. In his mind he was reaching through worlds searching for her, trying to sense some trace of her essence which might remain. And there was nothing.

In the gas station Wesley grit his teeth and said firmly to Angel, 'Talk.'

_--_

**LA, May 2003**

'Dragon!' Spike's voice was barely audible above the roar of the apocalypse. He briefly saw the vampire's blond headed figure duck and stumble in the split seconds before the creature's wings beat hard overhead. A gush of hot wind came from their force and Angel realised what had knocked his companion flat. He staggered himself and tumbled to the ground, rolling on debris, turning so that his weapon was pointed at the beast. An explosion to the left, another tearing sound from the sky and the vent between worlds grew wider. The dragon above screeched and whirled, lunging at his body, being rewarded only with hunks of concrete and jagged remains which it lifted as easily as if they had been feathers with its claws. Behind the beast he saw Spike duck again as the debris went flying, but he regrouped and charged the animal again.

'Oi!' he yelled at it, he jabbed his sword, dancing in the burning rubbish. Around them the smoke billowed in black clouds and Angel's mind turned to Gunn. He hadn't seen him. He turned his head quickly from side to side and then slithered forward on his knees. With the dragon distracted he managed to get to his feet, casting his eyes quickly over the landscape. Where was he?

'Angel!' Spike's warning came too late, the dragon spun and with the sharp horns of its tail slashed across Angel's face and sent him flying into the fire. He heard Spike shout again, the scream of the beast as it was attacked and then he lost his place. The flames were licking at him, he had seconds and on instinct alone he dragged himself forward and down. Vampires always head down, down into the cool earth, into darkness. He took another step and the ground gave way. He was tumbling forward into a valley of destruction seared into the earth by the massive force of the apocalypse.

The fire extinguished as his body met the earth and for a moment he laid still, his eyes on the sky above. It was raging and dark, crimson nightmares churning in the clouds. More things pushing their way through the rift. It was more massive than he had ever imagined. All this time he had talked of apocalypse and yet he had never really fathomed what it had meant. Every creature he had fought before could be ended; a single living entity or a number of weak beings who could be maimed tortured or killed. But this? He tried to push himself from the ground and felt the blood trickle down his face into his eyes; it stained his vision red, it leeched down his cheekbones to where another deeper gash lay open. He tasted the blood and looked again at the sky reminded that he was one being too, that he could be ended just as Wesley had been and they would keep coming. The things behind that rift were endless, they live in their countless thousands and there was nothing to prevent them. Two souled vampires, a dying street fighter and a half disempowered Old One in a girl's body. They would be picked off one by one, for all he knew they had already been picked off. How would it ever stop?

As he lay in the charred debris the realisation hit him. He _couldn't_ stop it; he had gone too far too fast, he hadn't thought it through. Angel the Champion, the one who always fought the good fight against the odds. He should have realised these odds were impossible. He had to find his friends, find them now and get out.

He began to climb the artificial valley edge and with difficulty reached the top, fighting back a dozen demons en route. The anarchy was absolute now, the creatures were even fighting each other and he edged forward, bleeding and weakening through the fire, his eye always on the rift and the things which poured through.

'Gunn? Spike?' he called, his voice ineffectual against the heat smoke and wind. 'Illyria? Gunn?'

A roar and a hell beast announced its presence ahead of him. It reared on its hind legs and let out a jet of piercing flame and as its hooves crashed down to the earth the world seemed to shudder. But it was what lay beyond it that Angel feared most. He could see the shape slumped in the rubble, motionless. He tried to get his bearings, to look above for the familiar shape of Wolfram and Hart and he wondered momentarily if even that had been destroyed. Seeing nothing he heaved his weapon to his shoulder and made for the hell beast, his limbs aching and his muscles weak from blood loss. They collided and with his vision blurring and 

greying he tussled with the thing until he felt it drop its guard. Just for a second, long enough for Angel to plunge the sword deep into its chest. It screamed, roaring and falling to one side and a pause of silence settled onto that small space in apocalypse. Angel wiped the blood from his eyes and looked again at the shape on the ground.

'Gunn,' he said.

-- --

The Team were silent, waiting for Angel's next words. They had gathered around a table in the corner of the gas station, a worn Formica relic of the pre apocalypse. Its edges were peeling back and beneath the surface they could see where grease stains had seeped into corkboard. No-one raised their eyes from it, imagining patterns in the checkerboard table. Fred picked at the edge, only the brief twitch of her jaw muscles revealing that she had heard.

'I don't know what got him in the end…' Angel said quietly, 'I didn't see.'

'It doesn't matter what got him,' Fred said quietly, 'It's the fact he was got.'

A beat.

'He was when I realised,' Angel went on. 'That…'

'That you made a mistake,' Lorne's voice cut clear and strong through the room. He was standing behind the counter away from the others, his hand wrapped around a bottle of scotch. 'That's when you realised is it?' his voice was dripping with sarcasm, 'When Gunn died?'

'Yes,' Angel blinked and replied. To everyone's shock Lorne let out a gale of shrill laughter.

'When Gunn died, not when Wesley died, not when the sky ripped open and a thousand hell beasts attacked the population of LA, not when you bit off more than you could chew, destroyed our spirits and used us like faithful little puppets?'

Silence.

'It took the deaths of not one but two of your friends to make you realise,' Lorne said quietly. 'What kind of person does that make you?'

Another beat.

'I gave you all a choice,' angel struggled for words. His mind racing with the excuses he had told himself again and again over the months. 'I told you all, you could leave…'

Lorne shook his head sadly and fixed Angel with his eyes. 'You really believe that or are you just kidding yourself? You 'told us we could leave?' You knew we never would, Angelpie, you knew you had us right there, loyal to the end, sacrificing everything, going against our beliefs for the greater good you talked about. Well how's your greater good looking now sweetcheeks? Pretty spangly huh?' he let the words fall hard. 'You knew we would stick by _you_. So what stopped you sticking by us?'

-- --

**The Sewers, LA outskirts, October 2003.**

Angel's eyes opened slowly to the darkness of the sewers and he strained to hear the scuttle of movement which might indicate rats or enemies. But there was nothing and with stiff muscles he pulled himself up against the wall. Six months. Almost six months fighting, scavenging, searching for a trace of Illyria or Spike, of anyone who might be left. The flow of creatures from hell had slowed but there were still far more than he could ever kill. He lived in constant danger, ironically entombed in this sewer for safety while night and demons ruled above. Two hundred years ago he could have walked the streets with them and engorged himself on blood and violence. Now he was alone.

He just had to get on with it. Add the guilt to the burden he already bore. He couldn't walk away, he had to finish the job, and if it couldn't be finished let it finish him. He lifted the sword to his side and began to sharpen it slowly, noticing the pallor of his hands in the gloom. He barely ate or rested, just kept moving, and it was showing, even his vampire body could be abused and neglected. He carried a dozen wounds at once, his rapid healing powers struggling to keep up.

Sword sharpened he made his way along the broadest of sewer pipes, his footsteps echoing off the cobbles, the pour of water trickling over stone, his mind at once distracted and alert to danger.

But not alert enough. The rumble of the groaning earth caught him off guard and as the earthquake ripped through the city it ripped through the sewers. Debris began to fall from above and as he lurched to one side the ground beneath him cracked letting forth a gush of searing heat. He scrabbled to hold on, his sword falling from his hand and into the darkness below and when at last his fingers slipped on the wet surface and he plummeted with it, his terrified mind was certain that it heard something beneath him. Something roaring in its grave.

**-- --**

She had taken it all. Every last drop of power, every piece of the Old One, and left him with his human body and a pit of memories. But she had given him something too, something tangible, a warmth which filled him as he ran.

No time to think, just flee. Just get away from the castle, the palace, from her. Whatever that thing was it wasn't Sasha anymore, and he had done that, he had tried to imprison her and my god how it had backfired. He didn't understand it, why had it happened?

No time to think.

He staggered and slid on the ice, one moment skidding the next his legs knee deep in snow. He plunged forward, scrabbling to remain upright, his eyes scanning the horizon for the things he had unleashed here. An apocalypse turned now on him. Thousands of his blue demons moved across the landscape and he instinctively felt, he just knew, that they obeyed him no longer. The magic was hers and he was in danger. It was a game to her, cat and 

mouse. See the mouse run. He could feel her eyes on him in the Mirror in his chambers.

Why? And how? Was it the Slayer in her? A primeval power he had unwittingly tapped into. She had struggled, fought against him but he had felt her yield soon to be in his control and then suddenly she kicked back. Forced him from her body, forced him from her mind and as she had pulled from him she had drunk it all in deeply. The ancient being he had been, the strength that went with it.

No she had been dying. He had felt it. She had been seconds away from being his and then she had refused to die. She refused to die alone and she tried to take him with her. In the end it was his power which had been too great not hers and not him. It was the power which mastered her, leaving him empty and her ended.

So what was this warmth he felt now, what had replaced Novica's power? It had come from her as she had died before him.

No time to think. He had to get this body to move, he had to get help. Because along with that warmth she had given him something else, a sense of longing, a rage of guilt, he wasn't what he had been before; as he had poured darkness and ice into her body she had reached out with her last strength and touched his soul.

He couldn't stop the tears, they hit him as he ran, wracking his chest as he heaved for breath from exertion. His outer regal robes tangled around his legs as he moved and he struggled to free himself from them, stripping their significance from his body. They were nothing, merely a past existence which had been consumed and destroyed. He had to find the others, the ones he had betrayed, they were the only hope and her death had shown him that. She had fed him that with the warmth.

Finally he saw the faint glimmer of light on the horizon and made for the building, the remains of Sasha's instinct guiding him to the last people on earth that could help.

-- --

**Beneath the Sewers, LA Outskirts, October 2003**

Unconscious. He had been unconscious. So why could he not see? His eyes were open. Angel raised his hand and moved it before his face. The dark was as thick as blindness but it was darkness alone. Darkness and heat which rose around him like walls. He drew himself to a kneeling position and felt around him. The ground appeared to be stone and dusty, he could feel the grit under his fingernails, under the pads of his fingers. His clothes were torn from the fall and that same grit worked its way into graze and wounds. He winced and continued to sweep head of him with his outstretched hand. His weapon. Was his sword nearby or lost in this pit? How big was it? He couldn't tell, had no perspective in the inky black.

Angel froze. The heat around him moved over him in a wave and with it the distinctive tones of a living breath washed over him in a low breeze. There was something in here with him, he had felt it before his fall. So why hadn't it attacked while he lay unconscious.

A rumble from above and he knew the apocalypse and earthquake continued, but it's seemed so far away. How far had he fallen? How to get out? Did he dare attract the attention of 

whatever shared this crypt? He stood full height and tried again to peer into the gloom. His vampire sight was better than most and at last he began to pick out shapes and as the earthquake shook around him he saw the cracks form in the pool of dark lava ahead of him. Lines like orange veins across the broken crust and the breathing came from there.

The room was vast, taller than it was wide and stone built. Before him he could sense the paler columns of pillars and behind them more darkness. There was something almost familiar about its lofty architecture but Angel had little time to contemplate it. The earth heaved again and from ahead of him there was an unearthly roar. A jet of flame filled the cavernous hall and as it died back the embers continued to burn in a massive set of eyes. Angel staggered backwards and raised his head to follow the rise of the creature behind the pillars. It hauled itself upwards as though it hadn't moved in eons. It was dark, monstrous, inhuman and disfigured, vastly tall and muscled and from its shoulders, neck and head pierced huge and time worn horns. The fire spilled forth again and it was then that Angel realised it was coming from the creature's charred lips. It turned its burning eyes on the vampire and let out a piercing scream. With a rush it charged at the pillars colliding with the stone and sending out shock waves of force, then it lurched back in pain, pain from the prison walls and from the chains which bound it to its cell.

It was trapped behind the pillars, but even as Angel watched he saw the dust crumble from them with the force of the earthquake and the creature's wrath. It wouldn't be contained forever and he, Angel, couldn't deal with it alone.

-- --

Wesley was first to ask.

'So what was it? This creature. For something that size to be imprisoned beneath LA, there must be some record of it.'

'I think perhaps they weren't making records when this thing was bound,' Angel said, 'It seemed ancient, those pillars, that place, it was thousands of years old if not more.'

'So you left?' Lorne asked. 'Where did you go?'

'It wasn't that simple. The pit it's in is deep, deep and almost impossible to get out of. It didn't just take days it took weeks to figure it out, but there had to be a way. For something to be captured down there its captors had to have a way in and out right? I could have done with Wesley's books…' he tried to laugh but the former watcher cut him a sharp look. Angel went on, his eyes on the table. 'It took a long time to get out of the city in one piece. And then I hadn't realised quite how far the apocalypse had spread…'

'Yeah, they do that,' Lorne took a swig of scotch, 'Apocalypses. It was well into Chicago by Christmas. Real pretty in the snow,' he looked vacantly out of the windows at the ice outside. Angel returned his attention to the table but there was anguish in his features.

'I kept moving as best I could between demons and sunlight; that is in the places where there was still sunlight. I tried to contact the Powers that Be, used every source I could think of, but I guess I lost most of my contacts.' He looked back at Lorne, for years the demon had been Angel's first link with useful underground beings. Lorne felt the weight of his gaze and 

responded by staring into the bottle he held. 'Anyway I couldn't contact them and all I could think of was this thing, under the city, obviously powerful, obviously trying to get out. I didn't have much time, I had to swallow my pride and …'

'Huh…' A short laugh from Lorne, 'Swallow your pride eh? _Loved_ to have seen _that_.'

'…I headed to Italy, to the only people I knew could help me…but they…'

'Let me guess,' Lorne said his dark silhouette reflected in the window behind him, 'They didn't want to know…'

The scream cut off Angel's answer.

-- --

The face was expressionless. The thing that was Sasha regarded its own features with curiosity. The brilliant white of the skin, the sharp contours of the bones beneath the surface, the feel of the dazzling silver white hair on its porcelain shoulders and those empty soulless eyes. It was a thing of beauty it concluded. It reached out with a slim pale hand and touched the Mirror.

'Find him,' it said.

The view materialised and it watched as Novica struggled through the snow. With its mind it directed the demons as he had once done and they circled closer at its command. The building was close by, it could sense Novica's growing desperation to reach it, the faint glimmer of relief as he approached. Just a few more yards, sanctuary waited. The perfect time for the attack. A faint smile crossed the thing's lips.

'Finish him now,' it ordered.

The first of the blue demons launched itself at Novica's weak and human body and in the palace the thing heard his scream, watched as he writhed beneath the demon, fought to get away. Another joined the tussle, claws and teeth and ice. The smile grew wider and then it froze.

From the confines of the building the vampires charged from the doorway, and then another with them, a man, Wesley, gun at his shoulder, blowing holes in the demons who attacked, avoiding his friends with precision. The two vampires hauled the remaining blue demons to one side, attacking, beating, and then the man drove forward, grasping at Novica with one outstretched arm.

'Fools,' the thing raised its hand, intent on ordering all their deaths and then its pale eyes caught a glimpse of the figure in the doorway, the one called Lorne. The things eyes flickered in recognition and it dropped its hand in confusion as Novica was pulled away from his old followers and into safety.

The Mirror went blank and the thing that was Sasha stood motionless before it, remembering. It could still taste humanity but it could not feel. Carefully it hunted through its depths and searched its life form for the woman it had been. Finally with a sharp movement it stepped 

away from the glass. It was satisfactory after all; there was no trace of her.

-- --

The door was slammed shut and barricaded by Spike before Fred could blink. In the centre of the gas station Novica stood, unsure, damp from the snow and shivering. At first no-one approached him and his eyes darted nervously around the room. At last it was Fred who took pity and took a blanket to him. She held it at arm's length and flinched as he reached for it slowly. Fred backed away.

'Thank you,' he said quietly.

'Thank you?!' Spike wheeled around from the door. 'What the bloody hell do you mean thank you? What the bloody hell are you giving him a blanket for?' he exploded. 'We should have let you die out there but this one insisted we haul your arse in here.' He jabbed a finger at Angel.

Angel had drawn Wesley to one side and was whispering something. Fred tried to catch the words. They looked at Novica who in the dim light and cold cut a sorry and lonesome figure. Lorne stood by the counter which for the time being had been converted into his make shift bar. He swigged the scotch again and eyed Novica with curiosity.

'We should tie him up,' Spike said, 'Or chuck him back out there to get eaten by his own minions.'

'Been a rebellion has there,' Lorne said thoughtfully.

Novica's brown eyes flicked up to meet his nemesis. 'I can explain,' he said, 'and I'm… I'm sorry…'

Lorne raised his eyebrows and Fred saw his eyes flip over Novica's face and body with interest.

'Why should we trust you to even be here?' Lucy said sceptically, 'I seem to remember you being the big bad god shaped enemy.'

Lorne narrowed his eyes. He tilted his head and opened his mind to the creature in front of him.

'He is,' Angel said, 'The enemy.'

'Fighting darkness with dusk,' Lorne muttered, remembering the words from the Pool. He was distracted and dreamy. He looked at Novica, 'I know which you are,' he said softly. 'I see you.'

Angel glanced at him, puzzled and then dismissed the words. 'This isn't how I planned this but my plans aren't really coming together these days so this will have to do. You can help, can't you, Novica?' he asked, 'don't have to torture you or anything to get the information we need?' he made a rough aggressive motion in warning.

'I… I don't understand…' Novica looked confused and his gaze came to rest on Lorne with something like comforting familiarity. Something in him seemed to reach out towards the demon. 'I came to you for… help,' he finished so softly Lorne was certain he had misheard. He blinked to clear his vision and looked again at the Old One.

Angel ignored him and looked at Wesley. 'We need him. When I got out of that pit, when I realised that Buffy… well that I was working alone on this I did my own research and the trail led to him. Prophecies, omens, they all pointed in one direction. Old Ones. He knows something and he has power.'

Wesley nodded, his mind simultaneously hunting through the texts his memory still held dear. He had spent so long reading those books, reading and praying for Fred. He could 

practically visualise each page.

'He doesn't look real powerful to me,' Spike said. He sparked up a cigarette and circled Novica with a glint in his eye, 'Looks kinda soggy and weak actually, blue meanies turning on daddy.' He looked over at Lorne who was still nursing a drink, and caught his eye. 'And you aren't saying much for someone whose arch rival has turned up for a visit.'

Lorne sighed and dragged his eyes away from Novica. 'That isn't my rival,' he said. 'I can't explain it but…' Novica's eyes met his and Lorne looked deep into him. 'Something's different,' he said softly.

-- --

An unearthly sound. The thing beneath the city roared as it strained against the chains which bound it. Thousands of years had passed and the links were failing. Whatever magic had sealed them was weakening or changing. It could feel it dying, leaving the prison. Could it be the spell was never meant to last forever? Could it simply be that it had drunk enough from the earth to overpower it? The lava at its feet seethed slowly and it felt for the roots it had sent plummeting into the earth's core. It drank again. It had been a slow process of painstaking hours and months, but it was a thing ancient as Time; Time meant nothing to it.

It strained again, its cries echoing up into nowhere, the pit was too deep, no creature had penetrated it. Not until the vampire. It had scrabbled around in the darkness for weeks, as trapped as the thing behind the pillars. But it had escaped, untouched, unscathed, back up into the world. There was a way out. The earth was broken by the war above.

Another roar and the first chain gave way.

-- --

'_Why does the sun keep on shining?_

_Why does the sea rush to shore?_

_Don't they know, it's the end of the world_

'_cos you don't love me anymore…'_

Lorne leant against the basin in the gas station washroom and watched as his victim sang haltingly. He was in the centre of the bare cool room, seated on a bench. The room caused the lyrics to echo off the tiled walls with surprising resonance.

'Nice choice of song,' Lorne said dryly. 'Pity about the acoustics in here.'

Novica looked up and then cast his eyes back down to the floor to continue, a breath quieter than before. Lorne merely let his eyes rest on him, skimming the surface of the aura. It was uncanny, the quality of the voice, it was like listening to himself, the same tones, the same inflections. Different aura though. Very different. His brow knit for a moment and relaxed again as he listened. His features came to rest in utter sadness, he'd never read a destiny like it, never touched sadness so deep.

Novica came to a halt.

'Do you need more?' Novica asked.

Lorne closed his eyes and forced them to dry. 'No,' he said. 'That's enough. The first line was enough to tell you truth but… I wanted to listen.' He pushed away from the wall and came to sit by Novica who flinched. 'You know when you just have to even when it hurts?'

'I…' Novica looked helpless.

'No I don't suppose you do know that feeling, being until recently a godly thing. How times have changed, sugarpie,' Lorne said tiredly. He eyed his glamour's features with pity. His dark reflection, the thing which had chased and hounded him, wrecked havoc on his life, caused nothing but harm. Now here he sat, as human as ever he would be, hurting with a genuineness that the demon could not simply dismiss. And that thing he sensed, there was something so deep in this human body, something familiar and vulnerable that called to him. That pleading was testing him. This thing had caused so much damage and yet Lorne was compelled to… what? Protect it? For the sake of that thing inside. Where to start with that one, honey?

'So you're not the god beast from hell anymore.' Lorne said.

Novica shook his head.

'And you don't control your minions?'

'No.'

'And here's the hard part,' Lorne said. His voice remained calm but inside he battled with the images he had seen in Novica just seconds before, with the pleading he had heard. He couldn't quite bring himself to believe it but he knew it was all so certain. He knew what lay ahead and it was terrible. 'You need our help because you've done something dreadful.'

'I have.'

'You killed her.'

A heavy beat.

'I did,' his breath caught and he tried to bite down the emotion.

The room fell silent and Lorne became conscious of its gathering darkness. Shapes became grey and indistinct; the only thing in focus was the man in front of him and the deep colours of fear remorse and misery. In his own heart rage and devastation churned in similar colours, but he couldn't hate him, he couldn't wish him harm and all because of what he had seen when he sang. A painful miracle.

Lorne covered one of Novica's hands with his.

'We'll help you,' he said simply. 'We'll help you both.'

-- --

'So we're in agreement,' Wesley said. He and Angel were behind the counter where they had stood deep in discussion for the spell Novica sang in the washroom. Without thinking the pair had taken control, stepped into leadership once more and panic and fear drove them to make decisions.

'He's played right into our hands, I don't much know why he's turned up here but the opportunity is too good to miss,' Angel replied.

'And you're sure its enough?'

'It's all we have. I'm not sure of anything, but we have to try.'

Movement behind them and Novica emerged ahead of Lorne. Angel tensed.

'We do it now?' Wesley asked.

'No time like the present… get the information we need and then…'

'We finish the job.'

They turned and watched.

Novica moved softly to the other side of the room where he alarmed Fred by sitting close to where she held Aviline. She eyed him suspiciously as he took in the baby's features, his face a picture of awe and fascination.

'Lorne?' she queried.

'It's ok,' he replied, pulling up a chair and sitting with them. 'Let him see her… please.'

Novica reached out hesitantly and touched the baby's blanket, pulling it gently to one side so that he could see her hands. He let one finger stroke across her palm and watched as she gripped him. Fred raised her eyebrows, remembering how the child had screamed the last time Novica had been in the vicinity. As she opened her mouth to ask the question Novica's voice cooed softly to the child.

'Hey sweetheart,' the baby's grip tightened, 'you can sense it too can't you?' Lorne's deep red eyes watched with that same mixture of pity, sadness and anger which had flowed through him during the song. Yes, Aviline could sense it; it confirmed all his suspicions, another psychic being to validate what he had witnessed. He looked mournfully at the scene and at all that was left of his family.

'I'm so sorry,' Novica was whispering, half to himself half to the baby, 'I'm so sorry…'

The click of the gun surprised them all and when Lorne looked up again it was to see Wesley aiming it levelly at Novica's head. He stood behind the former god, his face grim and set.

'Tell us everything you know,' he said firmly, 'About the thing beneath the city.'

'Which thing?' Novica asked, his eyes closing in defeat.

'The beast you keep locked behind the pillars…'

Novica's face washed with confusion and then fear. 'I… how do you know about… oh god…'

The building shook and there was a roar from the earth below them. The scanty lights flickered in response and through the window the team caught a glimpse of panic amongst the demons who gathered outside. Then it settled once more, just ice and darkness.

'Is it free?' Novica asked quietly.

'Not yet,' Wesley replied stiffly. 'But I imagine if it becomes free we are in all sorts of trouble.'

'You can't imagine,' Novica said, 'You can't even dream.'

-- --

**LA Outskirts, Before Time.**

Even Old Ones have ancestors. All things have something before. Demons, the earth; even time.

That's how it began, before the civilisations built by demons such as Illyria, before the vast cities of stone and precious metals and the culture of followers. Old Ones are not truly Gods in the sense of the word, but powerful ancient demons who acquired magic and status among others. Kings of their race, immortal, but no more Gods than any other creature on the earth.

But once it had been the Old Ones who were the followers, and they followed Him; unwillingly, suppressed, abused, like any other slaves. The worm always turns, things change.

Before the time of the cities there had been nothing. A wasteland of desolation ruled over by the elements and those True Gods which controlled them. Wind and Earth, Ice and Fire. Of the four, Wind and Earth reigned benignly and it was in Earth's realm that Illyria was nurtured. It was a land of dust and blazing sunshine, rocky outcrops and deep caverns. It was always day. Things lived.

Ice and Fire reigned on the dark side of the earth. It was here that Novica was created and it was here that his desires for power grew. On this side of the earth the True God of Fire rained a hell onto the beings that lived there, so that nothing lived. They were driven out from his kingdom and lived instead under ice. Novica was not always the oppressor but the one oppressed. Over time his powers grew and he vowed vengeance on Fire.

One by one the True Gods lost their hold on the earth. Evolution turned, and they were replaced by the Old Ones. Illyria in the West with her cities of stone. Novica in the east with his world of Ice and another, Zeital, in the South whose windswept plains sheltered many beings who would later become men. The Three were demon kings in their time but one True 

God remained sandwiched between their powers.

Fire. Frenac. He was un-defeatable and untouchable. He was a relic which could not be moved. He buried his roots in the living flame of the earth's core and drank from it for power. The vast expanses of his kingdom reached further with each day against the weaker powers of the Old Ones and with them it took all life. The land here wasn't land as we imagine it to be. It was destruction itself, a heat so vivid that it charred anything which lived within miles of its perimeter. It was worse than hell, for beings dwell in hell and are tortured but here was nothing.

Old Ones thrive on beings. They need them to survive, to have purpose. They war and feud, conquer and control, feed from other creatures. They do not wish complete destruction because they would destroy themselves. An Old One without followers lies entombed in the Deeper Well. Old Ones thrive on beings and Frenac destroyed them.

And so one season the three demon kings came together to defeat Frenac forever.

At a sacred site in the desert of Illyria's world the demon kings waited, their ritual begun, calling forth the God Frenac. In the pit below the earth they would capture him, incarcerate him in the darkness and imprison him behind the stone of Illyria's kingdom which no fire can burn. The sky rippled with colour as their forces combined for the first and only time in their immortal histories. Wind blew hard enough to extinguish flame, Ice froze the pits of lava from which he fed and earth surrounded him with stone. They gathered to end the reign of the Ancestors before. And when he was imprisoned and troubled them no longer they broke free of each other's spells and warred again. Over the kingdom they had freed, the beings they had saved, over the charred desolation left behind. And they battled and bred and fed from the life stuff of the world until their time was over too and another race overturned them in its quest for power.

Because even Old Ones must let go. All things have something which comes after. Demons, the earth; even time.

Frenac believes it is his time again.

-- --

Closer. Closer. A final pitching cry and the last chain gave way. Frenac lashed forward with his vast arms and obliterated the first of the pillars. It came crashing to the ground, splintering into dust as the impact from its fall ran through the ancient stone. A gust of flame and the triumph glittered in the embers that served for eyes. Frenac glared above him, sending fire to light his way. He would climb from this prison and emerge on earth, and there would be vengeance.

-- --

A terrified silence filled the gas station. Novica finished his story, the defeat of Frenac, and Angel closed his eyes quietly. He had spent many months trailing a series of clues to the True God's existence but the description of power he had just heard chilled him. It had taken not one but three Old Ones at the height of their rule to imprison him, what chance did this little team stand.

'How to we defeat this thing?' Fred voiced the thought that was in everyone's mind.

'Ice, Wind and Earth,' Novica replied. 'The combination of the powers was the only way we knew… it takes something as ancient as Frenac to defeat him, nothing has walked the earth since that can touch him.'

'Illyria is gone,' Angel said. 'We're an element down.'

Lorne looked into his glass, images of the Other World in its depths. 'Illyria is in the Other World, I walked her to her resting place.'

'Yes! Yes…' Wesley now, pensive. 'She's traceable. Wind then… this Zeital? How do we find him?'

'He's with all the other Old Ones,' Novica said, 'The Deeper Well, but raising him will be a task. You may not survive that alone.'

'It's been done before,' Fred confirmed.

'It has,' Wesley replied quietly.

'And Ice we have,' Spike said cheerfully, his cool eyes directed at Novica. 'So we get ourselves a collection of Old Ones and we chuck them at the beastie and it goes 'poof!''

'You're talking about controlling three of the most powerful beings to ever walk the earth,' Novica said, the tone of his voice belied his fear that these humans were not grasping the enormity of the problem.

'Well you don't seem to be putting up much of a fight,' Spike said. 'One down… we got ourselves the Ice god.'

Lorne looked up at Novica and he looked back with troubled eyes.

'The others won't be controlled.' Fred said with certainty, her statement cutting in before Lorne was forced to speak. 'I've shared a space with an Old One, they don't give up their freedom without a fight.'

'Then we sacrifice them,' Angel took control. 'It's their powers we want not their actual being. We kill all the birds with one stone and destroy this thing.'

Lorne froze, his features set and only the swallow of nerves at his throat revealing his emotions.

Wesley picked up on his line of thought, 'Somehow master them long enough to get them to Frenac's power centre and destroy them and him. The release of their powers will incarcerate him while annihilating them in the process, maybe him too. It's possible, it's a form of magic that's almost impossible to control but it just might be achievable…' he sank into thought at the magnitude of the task ahead.

Lorne's eyes were still on Novica, in his mind he saw the images he had read from him before. He knew what lay in the palace.

'I volunteer to go find this Zeital, wake him up, ship him out, chuck him in the pit,' Spike was up and pacing the room. 'This thing's breaking free as we speak, we don't have much time. Wesley you up for coming up with and doing some mojo?'

Wesley nodded slowly, his mind racing. 'I can access the texts we need, I just need to speak to the others in Italy, explain it to them...'

'Lorne, you can cross to the Other World and find Illyria?' Angel half asked, half told him.

Lorne bristled. 'I doubt she will willingly sacrifice herself… again,' he started. Angel opened his mouth to interrupt but he cut him down, resentment building at Angel's decision to take command of elements he had no knowledge of. 'The Other World isn't a playground at my bidding,' Lorne said, 'I'm a guide. I _guide_ the lost, those who are in the wrong dimension. I can't just lift her out and dust her down and say 'Oh could you do me a quick favour.'

'But you can try,' Fred said touching him lightly on the arm. 'You're the only one of us now who can contact her. Even if she can't leave the dimension she may be able to help.' He looked at her and saw the pleading in her eyes. Lorne relented. Everywhere he looked he saw need. Fred, Aviline, even in the lost soul that was Novica. Was this what being Champion felt like?

'Let's start with what we have,' Lucy volunteered. 'We have him,' she shot a cruel glance at Novica. A shake of his very human head. The Team looked around.

'What?' Lucy said.

'He has no power, he's no longer demon,' Lorne said.

'Powers don't just vanish,' Wesley said.

'No but they can transfer,' Lorne's voice steady in the quiet gas station. 'And he transferred them.' Wesley opened his mouth expectantly.

'Well?' he said.

'By mistake,' Novica said quietly. 'I never mean to do what I did, I just meant to...'

'Control her,' Lorne said bitterness in his tone. 'You meant to control her, but she won't be controlled and now you've created something even more dangerous than the pathetic demon you were.'

Novica flinched, his guilt written over his features and Lorne's mind backed down. He focused on what he had seen, on the thing inside Novica which prevented him lashing out and finishing the shell that had once housed an Old One. He sensed it plead again.

'Lorne what are you talking about?' Fred queried, her voice was high with pre-emptive concern. She felt his answer before he said it, turning to her with calm red eyes.

'Sasha,' he said, swallowing back the venom, 'She's become…' he couldn't say it.

'She's become what I was,' Novica said, 'she's become more, she won't be controlled. She's an Old One now.'

No-body moved and then with a stifled sob Fred rose quickly from the table, her hand covering her mouth. Wesley jerked as though stung, looked for a moment as though he would comfort her and then dropped his eyes again to the table. Angel cast him a glance which said it all. Wesley knew the score. The Old Ones must be sacrificed, there was nothing more powerful on the earth that could destroy Frenac and if that was the case then they had no option. Just as they had had no option with Fred. Already behind him Lucy was talking, we'll find a way, we can do this thing, we can save the world and Sasha and live happily ever after. Her words grated at his ears.

Wesley understood more. He understood sacrifice, the pain it involved, what he, with Angel, must do to Lorne, to Aviline, for all of them.

They would never accept it; he knew they would fight for her. He_ wanted_ to fight for her, but the world left him no option. Frenac was breaking loose and the power inside Sasha was the only thing to halt him. The thing that had been slayer, ally, friend, was both their enemy and their salvation now. He would do what had to be done, if no-one else could. That was always his role.

He looked up and Angel shook his head once, quickly, comprehendingly, silencing him.

_They must never know_, he thought.


	15. Chapter 15 : The Last of Me

_They would never accept it; he knew they would fight for her. He wanted to fight for her, but the world left him no option. Frenac was breaking loose and the power inside Sasha was the only thing to halt him. The thing that had been slayer, ally, friend, was both their enemy and their salvation now. He would do what had to be done, if no-one else could. That was always his role._

_He looked up and Angel shook his head once, quickly, comprehendingly, silencing him. _

They must never know_, Wesley thought._

-- --

'Don't think I'm not watching you,' Lucy's voice cut across the room. 'Busted arm or not I can still take you down.'

To her surprise Novica didn't protest, he merely leaned back in his chair and away from Lorne, withdrawing the hand which had been reaching towards the demon. He kept his eyes on the floor, his face pinched and pale in the half light of the gas station store room.

'I wouldn't harm him,' he said quietly.

'You _couldn't_,' Lucy corrected, 'But that doesn't mean you wouldn't try.'

His eyes flicked up briefly to meet hers, 'I'm not… it's different now…' he tried.

'Like hell it is,' the teenager swept her gaze away from him and fixed it on Lorne. He had been in his trance state for almost a half hour now, completely still, only the barest shimmer of movement beneath his closed lids betraying him. His breathing even seemed shallower than humanly possible. Lucy absent minded corrected herself, not human, Lorne wasn't human, but sometimes it was hard to remember that. The thing close to him, Novica, he was human now. Apparently. And that was hard to remember too. No, not to remember. It was hard to _believe_.

Her arm ached dully. But she had these nifty slayer powers now and it would heal. In the meantime it would be a reminder too, of the apocalypse outside, of Lorne's rescue of her and of the baby in the corner. She didn't understand how he could tolerate Novica anywhere near him, never mind insist he stayed while he did this. Weird.

Novica's eyes were on her, sad brown eyes, she could feel them but she wouldn't look. She knew whose side she was on now and it had to be the demon's. She had to accept whatever Lorne said because he had all these super-being powers now and they needed him to win this war. In front of her Lorne's lips twitched slightly and then his face settled again into repose. Almost without thought Lucy addressed the room curiously, 'What do you think he sees, I mean, where does he go?'

There was no-one in the room who could answer.

-- --

They landed with a thud and Wesley tipped forward onto the grass of the Deeper Well Meadow.

'I should take out a season ticket for this place,' Spike said cheerfully, 'Always here rounding up one Old One or another.'

Wesley groaned, the nausea running through him in waves. He hoisted his crossbow over one shoulder and struggled to stand. 'Hopefully this will be the last occasion,' he said.

'Save my pennies then,' Spike quipped; he stuck out a hand and hauled the former watcher to his feet. 'Well's over there,' he pointed to a large tree, 'so what's the plan?'

'Go in. Raise the Old One Zeital, bring him back with us, save the world.'

'Anything more concrete than that?'

'Try not to die in the process…' Wesley said.

-- --

'Illyria!' Lorne's voice echoed across the wasteland and heralded no response. The clouds above moved in violet patterns and the dusty land beneath lay undisturbed. 'Illyria! I know you're here, I put you here remember! Come out!'

He turned on the spot and peered out across the featureless landscape with frustration. 'For god's sake tweetybird you can't hide away forever,' he muttered. He felt his ethereal form blanch and reform and raised his hand to shield his eyes from the strange light which pervaded her dimension. Imprisoned here alone, he wondered how time passed for her, how many millennia had gone by. Would she even remember him, and more importantly would she remember any of the scanty humanity she had learned from Fred. His arm dropped to his side and he felt the sigh escape him. He wasn't even certain if this was what they should do. Reawaken two more old ones in their pursuit of Frenac's defeat and what did it all mean for Sasha? Even now her body was in that palace, inhabited by the powers Novica had once wielded. How would they save her and end Frenac at the same time? Maybe Angel had his sources wrong, maybe there was another way to defeat the True God… leave the Old Ones at rest…

'There is no other way,' her voice cut coolly through the still air. Lorne looked about him trying to focus on her essence.

'Illyria?'

'I did not think I would see you here again,' the echo reached him. 'I had thought to have said… goodbye. How is your brave new world Lorne, what colour is your sky now?'

'Illyria where are you?'

'All around,' the air churned in on itself and spat out colour into the clouds. 'I have joined 

with that which is around me. The Shell's form was a temporary reminder of my weakness.'

'Oh,' Lorne held the vowel, 'That doesn't sound very promising.'

'Frenac will destroy all before him,' the voice went on.

'That's sort of our worry too. So listen bluebird we need a little favour,' almost before the words left his lips the air around him swirled angrily.

'I was never your servant,' Illyria fired at him. 'Your endearments sit emptily with me.' The air settled again, colours transforming from reds to violets and pinks. Deep at the core of it shimmering blues. 'You are foolish vermin; you have no concept of what you ask. To raise me once more, to raise Zeital… I watch your plans with pity.'

Lorne remained speechless, turning slowly as he sensed Illyria's essence moving around him.

'He will destroy you before Frenac has the chance,' she finished.

'Who will?'

'Zeital. He is an Old One, a king, if he senses escape and power he will take it, as all of us would…' she let the words hang in the air and Lorne's stomach sank. Illyria was as much an Old One now as she had been when she had devoured Fred in her fight for existence. Her brief flirtation with humanity was long past and power lured her.

'We're all out of ideas sweetie,' he said, 'You three were the only things that could defeat him the last time. We thought if we could just…'

'Tame us?' incredulous laughter.

'We didn't think we'd have to tame you we thought we could… well…' he realised his mistake too late. Wrong approach Lorne, years of smoozing up to powerful demons and hell creatures in his club had taught him how to win friends and influence people and now apparently he had forgotten those skills.

'You thought I would do it for kindness? Out of some sort of… loyalty?' Illyria's voice was verging on the aghast. She let fly a bolt of electrified colour and struck Lorne solidly between the shoulders. He staggered forward a few paces and collapsed onto the sand. 'I have no loyalties!' the voice boomed.

Lorne coughed pink phlegm onto the ground and wiped at his mouth. 'Hey I'm supposed to be all ghostly and see through, no hitting!'

He felt her essence move around him curiously. 'You truly believed I would help?'

'I hoped,' Lorne said. 'But without you we can still get two.'

'Two will not be enough.'

'We can make do,' Lorne said struggling to stand, 'I don't know how we're going to get Novica, some mojo has gone down with his powers and Sasha but Wesley has the incantations for Zeital so we'll start there, he's on his way now to raise him…'

'Wesley?' the voice breathed, the faintest trace of alarm in its depths. Lorne felt the essence change subtly around him.

'Yeah, the brains of our team...' he replied in measured tones.

'I know who he is…' the voice went on in puzzlement. 'He was ended… I saw him ended…'

'Well he started again, sent back by the PTB, praise the powers… and anyhow he's pretty certain he can control this thing long enough to…'

'Control?' the voice raised on pitch. In front of Lorne the colours in the air began to darken and solidify into a barely human shape. The landscape heaved and he wrestled to stay upright. 'You think Zeital can be controlled. You send Wesley to do so? You have no concept of Zeital's power, of how it functions. You rely on chance and weak magics when all of Time shows it is not possible. You cannot master an Old One, you cannot master Zeital. You do not see.'

Illyria materialised in a sudden burst and clasped Lorne's face between her hands. Her pale eyes fixed on his and with a low rasp she instructed, 'See now.' A rush of images hit him like a wall and Lorne felt the scream choke him before it escaped his throat.

-- --

'One sarcophagus please,' Spike mocked. The Keeper eyed him levelly and folded his arms.

'You dare to come here and request the tomb of an Old One?'

'We need to ah… borrow one,' Welsey said, 'The True God Frenac is rising and we need to enlist the power of the Old Ones Illyria, Novica and Zeital.'

The Keeper shifted his weight and continued to look at him coolly. Spike lit a cigarette and on seeing the Keeper's tight lipped animosity said 'We'll put him back when we're done. Hand on heart.' He flicked his fag ash over the bridge.

'You meddle with powers beyond your comprehension,' the Keeper began with the tone of a well rehearsed speech.

'We usually do mate but it usually turns out Ok in the end… so if you wouldn't mind… where's the sarcophagus, we've got a demon king to raise.' Spike inhaled again and tapped his foot impatiently.

'There have been too many of these incidents in recent times,' The Keeper said, 'before this century there would be but one attempt a millennia and now this repeated violation of the Well angers me. You did not learn from Illyria's escape? You are fools to use these forces to fight your wars. They are not to be controlled.'

'They are all we have currently, and with these incantations I can harness…' Wesley was brought to a stammering halt.

'Harness?' the Keeper chided, 'Harness a demon king, a creature which ruled lands of unimaginable harshness and size for eons. You will harness that for your work and then… 'put him back.' He scoffed, imitating Spike. 'No, Illyria escaped here without my knowledge, it will not happen again with my consent.'

Wesley looked down over the bridge. 'I was so hoping I wouldn't have to do this,' he whispered.

'What?' the Keeper asked. Wesley spun and with the butt end of his crossbow landed a heavy blow to the Keeper's jaw. Spike was on him before he could retaliate and with the enemy occupied Wesley let fall the first of his enchanted powders. As it fell through the depths of 

the Well he spoke the first lines of the incantation he had brought with him.

'This is your plan?' Spike said between blows. 'Magic dust?' The Keeper was putting up a respectable fight for someone who lived in a hole underground.

Wesley leaned over the bridge barrier and squinted for the light which would herald the activation of the sarcophagus. At last he saw it glimmer. 'There,' he said, 'Zeital's on his way.'

'You got that spell ready?' Spike landed another punch and resorted to holding the Keeper's face down on the bridge planks. 'Binding spell or whatever?'

'As ready as it'll ever be.'

They waited, sensing it was drawing nearer, up through the bowels of the earth, the light shimmering softly as it gathered momentum. Behind Wesley the Keeper was mumbling, his words obscured by the wood into which Spike pressed him. Wesley frowned, his mind still trying to focus on the next lines of his incantation. The mumbling grew more alarmed and Spike relented just long enough for the Keeper to grab some air. He spluttered and the blood from his wounds dripped down between the planks. At the same instant the light beneath them changed and in its centre Wesley thought he could see blacks and browns swarming. Something in the pit of his stomach lurched with primal fear and the nausea he had experienced in the Shadow Paths doubled. Spike backed away from his victim, his eyes glancing worryingly over the scene below. He looked at Wesley whose mouth moved not with the incantation but with words of doubt and anxiety.

'What _is_ that…?' he whispered falteringly.

'Get out!' The Keeper yelled, 'Get out it's coming!'

-- --

Angel burst into the room with Fred not far behind.

'What's happening?' he demanded of Lucy. He rushed to Lorne's side and pulled him from the floor where he had collapsed moments before. The demon struggled against him in his trance and in exasperation Angel gripped him hard by the shoulders and prevented him hurting himself against the chairs and shelves in the store.

'He… he just fell… he was gasping and… I don't know… something's happening… on the Other Side maybe?' Lucy was lost for explanation. Novica hovered by her nervously.

'Is something hurting him?' he asked.

Fred cut a glance at him and then softened, there was genuine concern there she could feel it. She could see it to, in his eyes, in the very human gesture he made as he gnawed at his thumb in anxiety. Sasha used to do that, she remembered.

'Where's Wesley?' Lucy was asking, 'Maybe he could…'

'He's gone, with Spike,' Fred said quickly, 'they're on their way to the Deeper Well.'

'Already?'

Angel nodded from his place on the ground, in his arms Lorne's breathing was ragged and distressed. 'They opened the shadow paths. Of all the Old Ones Zeital is the one we know least about and the one it'll take longest to raise, they needed a head start…' An idea came to him as he held his friend, 'Do you think he's found Illyria already?' he looked up at the others with worry in his eyes. 'Is that what this is?'

Fred glanced at Lorne, 'I don't know… she wouldn't hurt him… would she?'

-- --

**Messinia, 1347, Holy Order of the Minor Friars**

Curiosity had always been the downfall of Renaldo, curiosity and a love of rule breaking. At fifteen it was only to be expected of youth but his father had so hoped that he would see sense during his spell as Novice here at the Monastery. The second son of the family it was his fate to join the Holy orders for the honour of his parents. But he was wild and unruly and his Brethren found him hard to control. Now with the final prayers of evening over and the monastery deep in sleep he roamed the sacred building in need of amusement away from books and learning.

His sandals made no sound and he trod carefully. He saw the light ahead of him, pouring up from the crypt unshielded and his heart leapt with delight at the idea of catching one of the others involved in untoward doings. Perhaps one of the village girls had made their way to the church, perhaps one of the other novices had joined her there, or better still one of the Brothers. He stifled a chuckle and crept to the edge of the crypt, peering down into the candlelight.

In the tomb he saw something he had never dreamed of and unable to contain himself he began to wend his way down the shallow steps to the place below. He was drawn by the images he saw, by the darkness of the figures whose beak like masks presided over the ceremony. At the centre of their circle a sarcophagus lay regally, its surface encrusted with mysterious jewels the likes of which Renaldo had never seen even in his time in this rich order. The chant went up in Latin but there were not prayers he recognised and their vocabulary was not that of God. As his eyes adjusted to the light he could make out the insignia on the floor, symbols of evil and worship.

_Devils._ His mind reeled. Real devils, here within the walls of his Order. His legs screamed at him to run, to head for the dormitories and wake his brothers to warn them of this abomination, but he could not move. For there at the far end of the crypt he saw a girl, probably not much older than he, bound and muffled, dragged now to the sarcophagus. The black beak masks of the followers bent towards her and he could see the scream in her eyes, hear the choking sound of her fear against the sacking gag they had wrapped around her mouth. The chant grew in volume and the tallest follower leant over the coffin to sprinkle a herb or powder. With a great groan the stone sarcophagus appeared to shudder in the candlelight and with a sudden movement the followers lurched forward and impaled the girl on a hidden weapon; wrenching the gag from her now that her screams were silenced. She 

fell forward onto the sarcophagus, the blood trickling from her mouth and onto the largest of the jewels there.

_Master here our plea we are your willing servants._

The girl choked and spluttered, the crimson blood decorating the coffin beneath her. Movement amongst the followers, speculation and panic.

_It is not enough, the seal remains unbroken. Our master is entombed. More blood, more blood. _

A struggle breaking out. None wished to be sacrificed. That was the girl's role. The sarcophagus groaned once more. Renaldo was shaking, but unable to tear his eyes from the scene he lingered.

If he had not lingered. If he had listened to the cries of his muscles to move from there, to escape. In that brief second he saw her eyes meet his as he crouched in the stairwell and saw the pleading in them. Run! Run before they get you too.

But it was too late. With a roar the sarcophagus opened briefly and each follower was hurled back against the walls of the crypt confused and dazed at their master's rejection of them. The incantation had failed, Zeital remained trapped but he would enact a punishment on those who had claimed to save him from his tomb. From the confines of the coffin a gale of disease belched forth. Black and brown, plagues and pestilence and magics. Disease to maim and kill, devastate or transform. It choked the air and sought out the followers who had failed him, it filled the lungs of the girl and edged towards Renaldo and even as he felt it approach he saw a different sickness take her, the sacrifice; Zeital's victim, the one who had bled for him, was now his forever. Her eyes flickered gold, her skin became burnished, she was human no longer. She placed her back to the sarcophagus and glared at the dying followers, she was his Guardian now and while she could not bring him forth she would protect this coffin, send it to its resting place and wait for his call. She held his power at her fingertips, sent disease flying to the mouths of his followers, and when next anyone tried to raise her master they would be worthy of him or die in the attempt. She turned and saw Renaldo by the entrance and with a flick of her fingers sent sickness to his lungs.

Three days later Renaldo was dead of the disease that would become Europe's plague; dead of bleeding and fever, dead of the Guardian's and of Zeital's anger; dead of the fateful curiosity of youth.

-- --

'Wesley, Wesley move!' Spike was dragging him from the Deeper Well but the man was frozen in fear. In frustration Spike pulled him forcefully from the bridge where his hands had rested paralysed on the railings. He bundled him ahead of him, shoving him roughly through the earth. 'Come on!' he yelled, his focus now on the Keeper. But the Keeper shook his head, he could not leave the well, was bound magically to it, his duty to try somehow to control his demonic charge. The same charge whose infested breath was rushing through the earth's guts to greet them.

'What have I done? What have I done?' Wesley was repeating. Spike gave him propulsion 

towards the entrance of the Well.

'Seal it!' The Keeper called, his face turned towards the growing noise of the wind below him as it surged through the pit, 'Seal the entrance.'

Hauling Wesley from the opening Spike began best he could to block the things path with debris and foliage. From below he saw the Keeper begin the magics that would do the job to greater effect and realising he had nothing of use to hand he turned again to Wesley and called after him to run. They pelted forward to the Shadow Paths. And Spike knew at that instant that if the forces in that Well broke lose they would both die and something terrible would be unleashed. He spat out the words to open the Paths and grabbed for Wesley, trying to send him first.

'No, no this is my mess… I need to…'

'Wesley, just move, get in there…'

'I…' his protestations were cut of by the roar of the magics they had let loose. A gale, tall and tornado like forced its way from the earth, ripping through the trees around the meadow, spinning towards them. The pair staggered under the weight of the air, at the shapes they saw within, at the dark browns and blacks the wind carried with it. It surged forward and reached to touch them, infect them with whatever it carried. Spike dived for the Paths and dragged Wesley with him, shutting the entrance with magics as best he knew how and stumbling onto the shapeless landscape before him. The wind outside seemed to beat upon the portal, a rush of it escaping into the Paths and then silence. They were moving. It was behind them.

Spike gasped for breath in the thickened air and heard Wesley do the same beside him. Finally when the putrid stench of the Zeital's anger was dissipated he got to his feet and began to move along the Path towards LA.

'We have a serious problem mate,' he said, 'I suggest we get back to the others pronto and try and figure it out before they go activating Illyria and the other one. One Old One on the loose is quite enough… Wesley?' he looked back at the man crouched on the blank ground of the Path.

'Wes? You Ok?'

Wesley looked up at last, his eyes glimmering with the gold of Zeital's infection.

'Never been better,' he said.

-- --

'Do you see?' Illyria shook him hard, 'Do you see now what they could…' she stopped suddenly, releasing Lorne's face from her hands. He fell backwards onto the sand of her prison dimension. Illyria turned her face towards the sky and then looked about her, fear flooding her features.

Lorne rubbed at his forehead and peered up at her, the images of a destroyed Europe ripe with disease still floating in his peripheral vision. All that death. All that death and Zeital hadn't 

even been raised that time. If Wesley succeeded then he couldn't begin to imagine what could be unleashed. This was a mistake, it was all a mistake. He saw her eyes roam over the skies felt her listening hard.

'Illyria? What is it?' he asked the kind of question he hoped he wouldn't have to.

'It's too late,' she said softly, 'he's coming. He has taken Wesley,' she stared down at Lorne with the faintest trace of tears. 'I feel him, he will use him as I once used the Shell but he will destroy him, he is not strong enough…' she stopped suddenly and then made a sudden and aggressive move towards Lorne, hauling him up to face her and shaking him roughly by his collar. 'He has taken him and there isn't much time. You must stop him…'

'How, I don't know how to do that… I don't understand any of this, and Wesley said…'

'Enough!' Illyria's alarm was infectious, she shook him hard once more and then appeared to relent just a little. 'I know his weaknesses… he was my rival once. There are magics; there are those strong enough to contain him for the time you need. Believe in me if you will not blindly follow my command… Here is what you must do… do this… and…' she hesitated, 'Do this and I will help you.'

-- --

The gas station shook and Angel was first to leap to his feet. As the vampire stood tensed, listening for attack it was Novica who slid behind him and knelt by Lorne. In the chaos and noise the others could not stop him and he was drawn to his side.

'What was that?' Lucy was up and braced for attack, her injured arm was pulled from its sling, half healed or not it would damn well just have to do if it came to it.

'Wesley told me that this station is close to a mystical focal point,' Fred was saying, 'That's why Angel was on his way here to destroy the Amulet of Hytor but the palace sprang up where the forces converged.' Another blast from beneath them. 'So I'm guessing this could be anything; a portal, a hellmouth opening, it could be Frenac. Oh god, what if it's Frenac?' her logic fell away to be replaced with fear.

From the other side of the storeroom door there was an ominous crack like lightning. Novica flinched and held tighter to Lorne who was mumbling in his trance.

'I say we go and see,' Angel said. He stooped and grabbed at the nearest weapon. 'Who's with me?'

Lucy confirmed that she was and together with Fred stood both sides of Angel, and a pace behind, ready to face whatever was happening in the shop. Silence fell and the three moved forward as one into the other room. The door slammed shut behind them and Novica waited, his ears straining for the slightest sound, his fingers picking nervously at Lorne's shoulders.

Lorne's eyes opened.

'Is it here yet?' he asked.

-- --

The entrance to the Shadow Paths closed behind him and Spike fell into the gas station, his face stippled with rivulets of blood. Angel was immediately on the defensive.

'Spike! What happened? Where's Wesley?' Spike moved as though trying to point him out but fell spluttering onto his hands. He coughed darkly, his lungs filled with thick viscous fluid and the blood spattered across the floor. Fred dived beside him and looked into his face, his blue eyes bloodshot and frightened. Before Angel or Lucy could react they heard Wesley behind them, similarly bloody but without the tensed aura of terror around him. Instead as he tried to make his way across the tiles he laughed between each cough, high and hysterical, his eyes glimmering gold in the faint light.

The gas station shook again and the Team fought to keep their feet. The air grew heavy and a breeze formed in the centre of the room, scattering them to corners, clinging onto shelves and counters for support. Wesley however continued to crawl forward, each breath more difficult than the last, each storm of his laughter more disturbing. At last Angel made as though to go to his aid but Fred's screech halted him in his tracks. He looked up in time to see the rip in reality tear forward and the first blast of the magical gale gushed forth and battered across the room.

The Guardian emerged and stood solidly before them, skin burnished bronze and taut, eyes a yellow flame, it had once been a girl, a sacrifice gone wrong and it had wait hundreds of years for this moment. Lucy dived for it but was held frozen on the thing's command, unable to move her limbs or raise a blow. Wesley rolled until he was flat on his back, his arms moving from side to side trying to push him upright, trying to brush the spittle from his mouth. He giggled and the blood spilled from his lips. The Guardian bent over him in disgust.

_You dare to raise my master with your petty magics when great sorcerers before you have failed, _its voice was curiously metallic and yet rustled with the breeze like heavy wind chimes in a summer storm, _You are like the others, too weak, too ineffectual to house him. You are not worthy. And yet it is my task to protect you from harm lest he see fit not to destroy your body in his rebirth. These creatures would end you in their hope to end Him and I would not allow it though your death would bring me joy; his would end me. _ The Guardian looked down at him with repulsion. _Very well, I will guard you._

And with that by forces unseen it pinned Angel and Lucy to opposing walls with the strength of its magical gale. Finally it turned to Fred.

_You have been used before, _it said, _ You have housed us before._ It cocked its head and inspected her curiously. _You know better than to meddle with our power so why send him to Zeital? You will watch him die now._ And it lifted Fred so that she was skewered against the tallest section of the wall, in full view of everything before her, so that she could see in detail.

-- --

Aviline was whimpering in her cot and in desperation Novica picked her up and held her. 'Shhh, please don't, they'll find us, whatever is in there will find us.'

Lorne was by the door to the storeroom and for a moment Novica thought he was listening, 

trying to gauge whatever was happening out there. Then he saw the movement of Lorne's right hand against the doorframe and the trace of dark lettering he left there.

'What are you doing?' Novica asked weakly, though after years as a demon king he could well read the incantation.

'What I have to,' Lorne said grimly. He felt weak from his astral projection, from Illyria's assault on him and the visions with which she had filled his head. But she had also filled his head with information, knowledge in the face of this coming disaster. Why had he even agreed to such a stupid plan? His priorities didn't lie with this scheme to raise Old Ones; he thought of what had happened to Sasha, of what he could see inside Novica if he could just stop all this madness maybe he could help her. He continued to write, the last symbols taking their place on the door.

'That's a portal isn't it?' Novica ventured, he held Aviline closer to him and she settled against his chest. Lorne looked back and flinched at the image. He knew why she felt at peace with the man but he could barely stomach it. Suddenly his determination to make things right for his baby overwhelmed him.

'Get up. Yes it is. And we're going through it.'

'But why, you can travel to any dimension you need as the Walker of Worlds.'

'Only my astral self can travel and right now I need my whole self,' The building shook and there was a scream from the other side of the door. 'It isn't safe to wait here, you have to come with me…'

'But I…'

'I have to protect you,' Lorne snapped. Novica fell silent and looked down at the baby in his arms.

'I'm sorry… that it has to be like this…' he said. 'But I believe she knew you would help, she trusted in you to do the right thing for her... and for this one,' he nodded towards Aviline. 'I felt that in her when I…'

Lorne's red eyes looked up sharply. 'Don't,' he warned.

'I'm sorry,' Novica repeated.

'I hope for your sake it isn't too late for sorry,' Lorne said and placed a hand on the door. 'Plztb ytzg pltzb grb jvk,' he recited. A blue light appeared under his hand and then vanished into the doorframe. Lorne took the handle and turned. Behind him Novica's eyes widened, 'Wait! We can't go in there!' his stomach flipped in fear at what he might find behind the door, in the gas station, whatever was happening to the others it didn't sound welcoming.

'It's not my favourite place either, cupcake,' Lorne was saying.

The door swung open and the little room was bathed in sunlight. In the dual sunlight of another dimension and in the leafy green of the forests of Pylea.

-- --

Loyalty. It was a strange concept. One that did not sit easily on her demon shoulders and yet in her past there were glimmers of it. Loyalty to Levinia when Novica had destroyed her, loyalty which took the form of vengeance. Loyalty to the shell Fred and to her little band of creatures who fought darkness. Loyalty to one in particular who had lain dying in her arms as the Shell had died in his. Illyria looked around her at her prison and then deep into her being for the powers she would need.

Trust. Another peculiarly human trait but one sometimes shared by demons. One shared by Lorne. He trusted her now to help him as she had trusted him to find the means to save Wesley. But he had no means of knowing if she would really help or not. She could merely stay here and refuse her end of the bargain. Wesley would be saved regardless. She opened her eyes again the power at her fingertips and ready.

Honour. A demon trait. A warrior's trait and a King's. With a cry she brought the power to bear in one hand and punched upwards into sky. It tore through the dimensional barrier and chaos descended over her prison. She had always had the power to escape but it had been her time to be held here, she had fitted this dimension and it would degrade her to battle on in another world where she did not belong. She had died in honour and taken her prison in her stride. And so for the sake of honour she had remained here; now honour set her free.

-- --

Lorne was moving fast through the paths of the forest, his eyes scanning the undergrowth for the thing he sought. Novica trotted after him, Aviline still in his arms. From what he knew and what he sensed things had to be pretty dire to bring Lorne back to this world, particularly in a corporeal form.

'It's too dry here,' Lorne was muttering, 'If only I could remember where this stuff grows; I'm sure it was wetlands, or a marsh… maybe a pond? You'd think they'd invent a supermarket already, nice little magical herb section next to the deli? I mean when is Pylea ever going to progress? It's all hunt and gather, gather and hunt.'

'Some worlds take longer than others,' Novica said, 'Especially with ineffective leadership. When I ruled…'

'Stop that, your godly days are over,' Lorne snapped. Novica bridled momentarily and then fell quiet. He looked nervously about him. He couldn't shake this feeling of insecurity, of guilt, or of all out terror. He was vulnerable here on this open path, the smallest creature could creep up and startle him and he would look and feel a fool. Lorne began to root around some deep grass, poking with a stick.

'What are you looking for?' Novica ventured.

'Dekt Weed,' Lorne said as though this explained everything.

'Oh,' he looked at the tangled vegetation, 'What does it look like?'

'Green,' Lorne said bitterly. 'I don't know! Why did I never attend herbology? We had classes in plants and bugs and roots and things that poisoned other things and made magic stuff and oh…' he threw the stick into the forest. 'I'm never going to find it like this. We'll have to head into town.'

Novica's eyes widened in alarm and he looked towards the cluster of smoking cottages in the distance. 'In there?' he said.

'Don't worry you'll blend right in,' Lorne said.

'But I'm… human,' he struggled with the word.

'We have humans here.' Lorne grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him forward. 'It's just another step in your ritual 'I-nearly-destroyed-the-world-so-punish me' humiliation.'

-- --

Wesley had stopped laughing. He lay in the centre of the room pale and still. The blood stained his clothes and the floor around him and highlighted his deathly pallor. The Guardian stood nearby, arms folded, watching, offering a running commentary to the captive audience.

_It is a slow process, but you know that don't you, you saw that with Illyria. He is slowly dying and he will slowly transform if Zeital declares his form worthy. I think it won't be. It is puny and weak._

Angel and Fred exchanged glances.

_It should be me. It should be me housing his form but the ritual went wrong. They did not think it through. They were primitive. You are also primitive, _it confirmed. _You also fail to think things through._

The Guardian sat on the counter and Fred raised her eyebrows. It sighed pityingly. _Now I must watch another take the place that is mine. I've waited all this time, guarding, waiting, guarding some more, all so that my sacrifice was not in vain, that the blood spilled did not go to waste. I hate waste. Don't you hate waste?_

It looked at Angel but got nothing in response. He watched as it talked, it must have been beautiful once, and young. An innocent now infected with evil, vampirism was not limited to his kind it seemed. He looked down at Wesley. Infected too, waiting for Zeital to erupt inside him like a disease. The Guardian hopped down from its perch and jabbed Wesley's shoulder with a toe. It got no reaction.

_This is so dull, he's taking so long. _It walked the room looking up at Fred and then levelly into Angels' eyes. _You are a vampire, you will take too long to die, and she's already immune. _ Fred furrowed her brow. Immune? Immune to Old Ones? Illyria was like a huge and scary immunisation? She's take her polio booster any day. The Guardian looked over at Lucy and then paced softly to where she stood pinned hard against the wall by the preternatural breeze. It ruffled through her hair and clothes chilling her, stinging her eyes. _This one is weakened and damaged. It is human and it is not immune. We can have some fun with this one._

'No!' Fred cried.

The Guardian leered over at her. _You remember what it's like don't you? That first breath, that first taste of the Old One. This is similar and yet quite different. This isn't magic. It's disease. Centuries ago he brought disease to this world and destroyed millions. Let's throw a welcoming party for the master. _

The Guardian leaned forward and opened its bronzed moth slowly. With a low sound it exhaled and the brown black mist poured forward over Lucy's face. She coughed, retched, her face becoming pale._ Let's start the epidemic… here._

-- --

'Your cow has lost its collar!' the vendor yelled after Lorne.

'It's OK he knows better than to try and run off… don't you?' he jabbed at Novica. Novica looked hesitant and Lorne rebuffed him with a sharp whack to the back of the head. 'Stupid cow,' he said authentically.

'Ouch.'

'Stop complaining or I'll get you a collar and you won't want one of those.'

Novica stuck to Lorne's side as the wended their way through the market place. Lorne's eyes flitted over each stall in the vain hope that one might sell Dekt Weed. It was doubtful and furthermore he had none of the current Plylean currency. He had nothing to trade. Except Novica. He might get a few pennies for a cow. He glanced at him sideways and bit back the urge to put him up for auction.

The humour quickly died from his mind, the more he looked at Novica the more it did that. If he didn't have to sense him, if he didn't see the new colours in his aura every time he so much as glanced at him he could probably bear it. But right now he was walking a thin line. She was in there, a part of her, resting safe inside the thing that had killed her and while most of the time this filled him with anger and misery it also gave him hope. He could save her, if he could do nothing else he could save her.

Lorne slipped a hand around Novica's shoulders and guided him through the crowd.

'Come on,' he said ruefully, 'We have to bite the bullet and do it, we have to go see mom.'

-- --

Even from this distance Fred could see the sickness spreading. Different to that which filled Wesley but no less deadly. Lucy's face had become the colour of stone and on her neck and chest Fred could see the dark purple discoloration of broken vessels. Her laboured breathing filled the room and the sweet ran in rivulets down her cheeks, her arms, spotting to the ground beneath. It was rapid and frightening, the blood on her lips a vivid reminder of the pain she was in; of the pain thousands would be in if they couldn't stop this. Zeital, the representative of the element wind, brought with him disease as Illyria had brought famine to 

her people. It would start here and it would spread outwards, over the cities, over the states, it would tangle with the apocalypse Novica had begun and all the elements, Frenac's fire included, would rage and burn until everything was destroyed. It was all going wrong, it was all backfiring. And there in the centre of it was Wesley, becoming what Fred had once been. A Shell.

'Angel,' she whispered, 'Angel?'

'I'm listening,' his voice came sadly from the gloom of the far wall. 'Spike's unconscious,' he remarked.

'There must be something we can do…'

The Guardian surged upwards and into her face with the swift movement of the breeze. 'There is,' it said sending the gale directly into her face, making her struggle for breath, 'You can shut up.'

-- --

'Dekt Weed,' Mrs Lorne glared down at her son and stroked her beard, 'Why would a disgusting parasite like you want a powerful herb like that?'

'Long story, mom.'

'End of the world,' Novica said.

Lorne silenced him with his eyes and laughed nervously as his Mother loomed above him.

'Oh I see, bailing out your pesky cow friends again are you,' she was saying shrilly, 'come all this way to steal your mother's herbs without even so much as a sacrifice for our table. Call yourself a son! And as for _that_' she pointed to Aviline, 'She's half cow I can smell it! You've been copulating with vermin!' she spat at Lorne's feet dramatically. 'You shame our family with grimy cow blood! A half breed, no better than our filthy gardener!'

Novica's face was of pure astonishment.

'Great now she's off on one,' Lorne said and watched as his mother began hurling pans across the room. 'Do me a favour, go out the back and look for the weed.'

'I don't know what it looks like,' Novica said meekly.

Lorne ducked a pan, 'Well ask someone there's bound to be a demon or two lurking round the allotment!' he dodged another pan, 'Ask the gardener! Hurry, my ducking skills are out of practice.'

Novica swallowed and edged out of the back door with Aviline. The garden was in fact rather beautiful, although the strange plants took some adjusting to. He glanced over the neat rows of trestles and pondered the leaves. Spiky ones, round ones, something purple and hairy. He had no idea what Dekt Weed looked like. The baby looked down over the plants and seemed to be as clueless as he. She giggled and reached out to an orange shrub. In the corner of the 

plot he spotted movement, a broad muscular human digging roots. The man smiled whitely.

'Are you the new cow?' he asked. 'There is a cow due to relieve me here today.'

'I… I swear if one more person calls me a cow today I'll…'

'Oh... you're not from here are you?' the figure approached him 'I apologise. I assumed too much.' He grinned, his uncanny eyes sparkly. 'I should not call you a cow when you are a person in your own right. I tried to persuade the population of my city of such a philosophy but they were confused and dismissed me from the post. It was unfortunate, as I had many valuable laws to implicate. Now I dig plants. This is rhu-barb.' He accentuated the two syllables and then held it up suddenly so Novica could see. 'It is pink and tasty.'

'Um… I need Dekt Weed.'

'That is neither pink nor tasty. I believe it is even poisonous to some species.' He looked at it curiously.

'Do you have any? Dekt weed?'

'No.'

'Oh.' Novica looked back at the house and could have sworn he could see dust fly from a window. He heard a thud and a small cry from Lorne. He winced.

'But the owner of this establishment grows some just here,' the man continued and pointed to the flower bed to his right which was filled with large orange leaves.

'I thought it was green…' Novica started and Aviline blessed him with another giggle. Behind him a clattering noise alerted them to the emergence of Lorne, hotly pursued by his mother and a broom stick.

'Do not darken my doors again with your ugly green face!' she shrieked and the door slammed behind him.

'Phew you guys missed quite a show in there,' Lorne stepped forward rubbing is neck tiresomely. 'Moma just loves her lil'green boo and she shows her love with the pointy end of the broom. Hey did we find any Dekt Weed 'cos I really don't want to hang here for too long what with everything going on at…' he stopped his eyes fixed on the gardener.

'Hello Krevlorneswrath,' he said chirpily. 'Once again you come dressed as a clown. You mother is much angered. I will slip her some rhu-barb to cheer her…' he tapped his nose.

'Groo?' Lorne said faintly.

-- --

Wesley's body was shaking. The transformation was near. With a shrug the Guardian stepped away from Lucy's dying cadaver and stood over the struggling watcher. With a sigh it reached out and drew a circle in the air above his shape and from its fingertips the gale rushed 

forth and enclosed him in Zeital's power. The rotating pillar gathered speed above and around him, catching debris from the room and sucking the life from the bystanders.

_The final ritual begins, I wasn't sure he'd get this far, _ the Guardian said lightly, _Ah well, people surprise us every day. _ It reached forward and where its hands touched the winds golden light burned. Angel struggled in his bindings and kicked out from his place against the wall. The magic holding him was as strong as ever.

'Spike!' he yelled, trying to rouse the demon.

'Angel!' Fred's voice now, her terror tangible. The wind, powered by the Guardian' magics grew so fast they lost sight of Wesley within its walls. The Guardian leaned back and let its powers pour into the tornado, the trigger magics for Zeital's birth, and then it jerked. Once. Twice. A loud cry going up from its burnished throat. And the centre of the winds changed colour, shading blue and purple, electric crackling through the gales. They blew asunder suddenly, reverberating off the walls of the gestation, blowing glass from the windows, destroying everything in their path and lashing at the faces of the captive. With a mighty crack the birth was disrupted and the ancient power of an Old One stood brightly in the centre of the ritual.

'Illyria,' Fred whispered.

The Old One cast her glance weakly at her former Shell and then turned to the Guardian who was crouched over Wesley's suffering form.

'Get away from him,' Illyria said sharply, 'You deal with me now.'

Her first blow knocked the creature from its feet.

-- --

'I understand,' Groo stepped through the portal and halted his words, his eyes taking in the grim bare environment of the gas station store room. 'and my knowledge of those herbs confirms it. Is this where the enemy lies?' he asked as the portal shut and the door reappeared.

'Behind those doors yes,' Lorne replied. 'But I don't think I have stressed enough how dangerous this is.'

'A champion has no fear of danger,' Groo confirmed, 'I have waited in Pylea, tending gardens for too long. This is my work.' His face suddenly became serious. 'This is important.'

'You're insane,' Novica said, 'It'll kill you.'

'Maybe not,' Groo flashed his smile at him. 'Nothing has killed me yet.' Novica opened his mouth but Lorne shushed him quickly.

'So you're good with the plan, Groo? Novica?'

The former Old One took the little pot that Lorne proffered. 'Yes,' he said doubtfully.

'Congratulations,' Groo said good naturedly, 'It must feel satisfying to be partaking of something worthwhile and non-evil.'

He looked between them and remembered what Illyria had said to him before he had returned to his body. He only hoped he had interpreted it correctly, that what he had brought from Pylea had been enough. Had she known about Groo, had she deliberately pushed him in his direction? He wondered if Old Ones had such powers. He was certain she had sent him there for more than this pesky orange herb, potent as it was. It was Groo he needed. He took a breath and looked into the cheerful eyes of the champion, who nodded expectantly back at him with the fresh vigour of one who hadn't been battling an apocalypse for a couple of years. Fresh blood. Don't let it be spilt.

'Ready?' Lorne asked.

-- --

The scene unfolded with such rapidity that she used the Mirror to slow its events. Her cold hands directed it to tick through frame by painful frame, her empty eyes committing to memory each detail. To watch the enemy fight, the old enemy and the new, it could prove so valuable to her.

Illyria's disruption of Zeital's birth was successful, she noted. The powerful electric magic of the Old One ripped through the building and ended the delicate enchantment. Wesley lay motionless beneath her as the Guardian was struck down. The bronzed woman launched herself again at Illyria's form and was rebuffed; a follower's powers no match for a demon King.

The Thing that had been Sasha watched with grim certainty in its deathly face. The door at the back of the room opened, the avengers poured forth. It almost laughed at their desperation. The first, a new face, a warrior strongly built and not entirely human, who attacked the Guardian from behind with the stalwart blows of pure physicality. There seemed some form of unspoken alliance between him and Illyria as the two never crossed in anger but batted the Guardian from team to team, draining it, worrying it like an animal might its prey. And then from the door two more faces. The first was Novica, the thing's defeated lover, who slid nervously about the edges of the room in search of the Guardian's victims.

Oh how far he had fallen. Sapped of his magic and his evil, filled with that warmth from which the Sasha Thing had rid itself. He was so human, so weak. He scrabbled to the slayer Lucy and barely caught her as she fell from the wall. The magics of the Guardian were fading fast and its victims' bindings were melting. The cold face watched distantly as Novica bent over the girl, spooning the potent herb into her mouth, riding her of Zeital's disease. Interesting. A herb from another dimension. Zeital's old victims had had no access to such things; he had been infallible but now how times had changed. There was no such herb which could touch the powers Novica had given it; they would have to find a different tactic, if they could.

And the last face, Lorne. The Sasha thing felt the stab in her centre and brushed it aside as the memory of pain. He tended first the vampire, Spike and then moved to Wesley when he was 

certain the path was clear. While the battle raged between Illyria and the Guardian he roused the man from his sickness and pulled him to safety. Always the unsung hero. Always in the background. Sasha had been his weakness as she had been Novica's but Lorne had some power now. Perhaps he would learn how to use it. Perhaps the thing that was Sasha could take it for itself and add it to its growing pile of magics, Novica, slayer, Walker of Worlds. Yes, Lorne could be an asset and a danger. She would watch for him when the time came.

-- --

A sudden lull and every member of the Team looked around. Illyria stood powerful and undefeated to one side of the room and at her feet the Guardian lay dying. The burnished tones of its skin were fading from gold to bronzes and coppers, its light was waning and it lay crumpled and forlorn at the mercy of its enemies. Illyria looked up sharply at Lorne.

'Welsey lives?' she asked.

'He does indeed,' Lorne nodded towards Wesley who sat slumped close to him, his lips stained with the potency of the Dekt Weed. He was pale and clammy but when he looked up his eyes were their usual bright blue. Illyria nodded in satisfaction and regarded the rest of the Team as though measuring their respective strengths. Her gaze rested on Novica, on his knees by Lucy from whose body the dark marks of disease were fading.

'They will all live,' she said and looked down at the Guardian. 'This one won't.'

The Groosalugg stepped forward and knelt by the Guardian. He touched it gingerly as though to sense the texture of the golden skin.

'It is warm, like a person, not how I thought a god would feel.'

'It is not a god,' Illyria corrected, 'It is the slave of a god.'

'It's the Guardian,' Wesley said quietly. He tried to get up but Lorne forced him to sit back again. 'In the mythology of Zeital the Guardian would be its last true follower on earth, the keeper of Zeital's magics and the one destined to enact the resurrection incantations.'

'And you tell us this now?' Spike said rubbing his head. 'What you forgot to mention the gold bitch before?'

'I didn't think it would manifest. I thought the legend was the usual Old One hyperbole and…'

Illyria shot a murderous look.

'… and obviously I should have paid heed,' he finished. 'I thought I'd found a loophole. I thought I could perform the rituals myself.'

'Idiot,' Illyria said. Lorne couldn't help but smile a little. As curt as she was she had busted out of her hell dimension to save that idiot. She gave him a warning look and Lorne looked away carefully. While she might be showing her merciful side at the moment it was safest to keep her that way, they would continue to need her help.

'So what do we do with it now?' the Groosalugg said. 'It seems harmless?' he was still leaning over the creature and watching as its breath laboured pitifully. As each second passed it looked less of a threat and less of a monster. Its features became more delicate, more human. Lorne moved to join Groo and cast his eyes over the thing's aura.

'I say kill it,' Spike said, 'Then it will become 'just a legend,' won't it Welsey?'

Wesley looked grim. 'Angel? Fred?'

'It doesn't look very dangerous,' Fred said, 'Maybe we could… I don't know… send it somewhere?'

'It's a threat,' Angel said, 'Regardless of what we think now it just tried to kill us. I don't even know why we're having a conversation about it.' Lucy raised her eyebrows.

'Because she used to be a girl,' Lorne said, 'I can sense it so maybe you guys can on some level. It makes her harder to just kill.' He looked up at them, 'She was just a girl when she was sacrificed in the name of this thing, and somewhere in there she still is.'

A ripple of thought went around the room. Lorne turned back to the shape at his feet but almost at the same instant it surged upwards, pressing its arms into the ground and heaving the upper part of its body high enough to allow it to arch its shimmering back and breathe forth a cloud of dark mist. The Groosalugg threw himself forward, knocking Lorne out of the way and the mists hit him full force, wending their way deep into his mouth and nostrils, filling him with the last remnants of Zeital's power.

Angel rushed forward his axe held high. The Groosalugg turned and faced him, his eyes blanching deep blue and then gold.

'It's in him, it's transferred its powers.' Angel braced himself for the fight.

On the ground the Guardian writhed in agony, the colour fading almost entirely until it had receded only to its hair which fell in gold waves around its humanised face.

'It's dying,' Wesley said, 'It felt itself dying and sent its powers to the nearest worthy being to continue its role. The Groosalugg!'

Groo stood firmly in the centre of the room, Angel opposite and tensed for the kill. 'We can't let Zeital escape again! If I don't do this he could be reborn.'

The Groosalugg's skin shimmered bronze and faded again, the gold in his eyes flickered in haunting resemblance to Wesley's diseased gaze.

'Kill it!' Wesley shouted, 'before it emerges!'

'Wesley!' Fred's voice rang across the room in disappointment and anger. 'How can you say that? He caught her eyes and registered the utter hurt in her features, 'How can either of you say that? That's Groo!'

'Wait!' Lorne's voice above them all. 'Everybody just wait!'

All eyes turned to him. He approached the Groosalugg who greeted him with his familiar white smile.

'We have saved the day,' he grinned. 'It is all under control,' he reassured the group brightly.

'It's why he's here,' Lorne said. 'He's a champion, but he's also a unique demon hybrid. He is capable of containing these powers, with a little help from this…' he held up the little pot of Dekt Weed, 'It weakens Zeital, binds him in Groo's form so he can't emerge and do the whole destruction malarkey, but importantly we can access the powers and then exorcise him from Groo when we're done.'

Wesley gaped at the pair of them.

'Little tip I picked up from an old friend,' Lorne said and glanced quickly and subtly at Illyria who said nothing. Lorne put down the pot and faced them all.

'If we have to do this we do this on _my _terms now,' he said, 'All this end of the world stuff is making people jumpy, they're taking risks, doing things they'd never dream of doing normally,' his eyes came to rest on Wesley and Angel and the pair shifted uncomfortably. It was as though Lorne had heard their previous discussion about Sasha and the sacrifice for the greater good.

'When I first got hooked up with this deal it was as your guide,' Lorne was saying, 'To set you on your paths. Well you're way off your paths now and it's about time you all listened to momma. Trust me I have a hotline to the PTB and a world of unasked for powers these days and everything is telling me that this ain't the way, kittens.' He looked around at each of them and registered a mixture of emotions. Shame, anger, guilt, fear, panic.

He opened his arms, 'This isn't how we do things, making rash decisions, playing with gods and old ones like chess pieces.' Lorne looked back at Groo whose eyes were as blue as ever, the thing within him contained and evidenced only by a glowing tan. 'There's no doubt, we're in a mess guys. There's a big _big_ bad evil a'coming from down there in the bowels of the earth and we're the only thing between it and the world.'

'No change there then,' Fred said shyly.

'That's right cupcake,' Lorne smiled. 'But listen we're doing OK. We can salvage this. We've got out of this scrape, just_,_ with no-one dead. But look how close it came. We're playing with forces we have no right to touch. Leave them be, there are other ways to win.'

He looked around the room with kindness in his eyes and smiled at them all. 'Look at us, _look _at what we have. We're back together; the Old Team, we survived,' he looked at Angel and Spike, 'we came back,' his eyes flew to Fred and Wesley, 'We have the advantage right there. We're alive and we're together, there's a reason for that kiddies, that's destiny. So for those of us who didn't make it let's do this right. We're the lucky ones.' He smiled encouragingly and received a few familiar smiles back.

'Plus thanks to your lil'green hero we currently have one fully fledged Old One on our side 

with some kick ass moves and magics… Add to that the powers of Zeital wrapped up in this handy handsome champion sized package…' Groo smiled widely.

'That is me,' he said. 'I am here to help.'

'So all we need now are Novica's powers,' Fred said.

'Yes…' Lorne's vision clouded for a second and then cleared as quickly. 'And they are currently in Sasha.' He fixed Angel with his gaze and spoke as though no one else was in the room. The atmosphere darkened minutely. 'I know about sacrifice too, I know it has to be done sometimes and that she might already be gone. I know what you might want to do but let's not go in there all guns blazing, huh? Let's give it a chance. If there's even the slightest possibility that we might get her out alive then let's try to do it.'

Angel looked away and Wesley caught his eye. Something passed between them which the whole room sensed. As Lorne opened his mouth to speak again there was a movement behind him. He turned to look at the dead Guardian whose figure was now no more than that of a girl magically returned to her original form. Lorne felt the waves of his powers wash over him. The heat travelling up his arms.

'Oh… hey… I seem to have work to do…' he said haltingly, 'Hold that thought.' He slumped forward caught by Groo and felt his astral self lift out of his body. The others looked on in bewilderment.

-- --

Though it had long since grown bored of watching their battle the Sasha thing continued to stare into the depths of the glass; thoughtful, scheming. A creature such as it was could feel Frenac rising. His rejuvenated force was surging even now through the earth's crust ready to erupt into the world and destroy everything in its path. Lorne and the others looked to stop it; they enlisted and ensnared the willing and unwilling aid of Old Ones to do so. The face in the mirror would ensure that they would not enslave it as they had the others.

The Sasha thing would not be used as a pawn to end that Frenac's rise; it would end the rise itself, and take Frenac's place. All things must evolve and it was time for it to become a True God.

It tried to smile but its face was changing, less human now, more sculpted, more marble. Perhaps it would entirely turn to stone. It touched the glass where its eyes lay darkly. Power rested in those eyes. Power and nothing else; enough to start a new age. Deep in the bowels of the earth it felt Frenac climb closer, the heat and fire moving upward. But he would meet with the magics of winter before long and they would be stronger than it had realised. It would extinguish that fire.

The Sasha thing let its tongue slip along the frosted curves of its frozen lips and tasted the ice there, then it winked out of sight and the mirror lay empty.

-- --

In the astral plane the features of the gas station were dimmer and ill defined but Lorne could 

still make out his friends watching his unconscious form. Close to it the body of the Guardian and near that the girl's spirit stood before him; frightened and confused, released after hundreds of years Zeital's prisoner. When she caught sight of Lorne she took a step backward, her eyes darting around the room.

'Hey sweetie,' he said. 'Are you lost?'

She nodded quickly, her eyes glittering.

'I guess you really are aren't you,' his voice was soft and filled with empathy. She relaxed a little at the sound of it and he approached her carefully 'Wrong century, wrong life, kinda scary,' he went on. 'You're safe now, it's all over.'

Those on the wrong paths were often anxious and wary. He did his best each time to make them feel protected though so often there was heartbreak in their leaving their lives behind. She really was just a kid; she'd barely had a life before Zeital had taken it. Lorne swallowed and forced the brightness to his smile. He held out his arm welcomingly while inside he felt the same pang of sadness twist and stab.

'Shall I take you home?' he asked gently.

Her smile broke out like sunlight and she nodded gratefully. And so with one hand Lorne reached out and took hers while with the other he opened the door to the Other World.

'Come on then peach pie, for today's journey, I'll be your guide.'


	16. Chapter 16 : The Lucky Ones

_Lorne looked around the room with kindness in his eyes and smiled at them all. 'Look at us, _look_ at what we have. We're back together; the Old Team, we survived,' he looked at Angel and Spike, 'we came back,' his eyes flew to Fred and Wesley, 'We have the advantage right there. We're alive and we're together, and there's a reason for that kiddies, that's destiny. So for those of us who didn't make it let's do this right. We're the lucky ones.' _

-- --

Twilight. The grey that looked like nightfall was actually the herald of the coming day but Sasha's winter drained the colour from the sun and left the gas station in pale and lifeless shadow. In its little bathroom Lorne stood before the cracked mirror and studied his own face. In the half light it too was washed of the bright greens and reds which marked out his features, causing darkness to gather around his eyes and lips hollowed out pits which pointed to the events of the last few years; they had taken their toll. He exhaled and a cloud of his breath gathered on the glass and faded slowly. Everything was cold to touch; it lingered in the air and nipped at his skin. Today they would bring an end to it all, one way or another.

For the twentieth time that night he closed his eyes and reached for her in the icy tower that was her palace not far from where they rested now. He searched for a trace of her in her fortress, for anything that he might feel of the woman he loved. Though he felt it, he refused to believe it, he refused to give up the fight that might salvage her from this disaster but deep down he knew. Despite his cheering words and peppy rallying of his team he sensed it like stone inside him. She was gone; nothing but a vessel for the evil she had taken from Novica. If he had only had a chance to talk to her, if things had happened differently it would be the god creature in that palace now, wearing his glamour, his own human face, and not his lover. Novica would have been so much easier to kill.

That's what it would come to. If Angel or Wesley had anything to do with it. Lorne might buy a little time, make a last ditch effort to rescue his girl but they all knew it would come to the kill. The slayer in her knew it, the woman she had been, the little trace of her that still remained, not in the palace but in _him_. The muscles in his jaw twitched in anxiety and slowly Lorne opened his eyes, his gaze in the basin below the mirror.

A shadow passed behind him and he caught its reflection, an image of himself and somewhere inside it, what was left of her. Novica's dark eyes look back at him in the glass with sadness.

'Is it time yet?' he asked softly.

-- --

'It's the end of the world as we know it,' Spike sang bitterly as he watched the sky turn from black to slightly less black to grey. 'It's the end of the world as we know it, it's the end of the world as we know it….'

'We get the picture,' Angel said.

'…And I feel fine,' Spike concluded forcefully.

Angel shot him a glance. A rising tension had been evident between them since earlier that evening. Lorne's declaration that the team would 'do this right,' had jarred Angel. He was aware suddenly of how much things had changed, his place here usurped and questioned after his disappearance the year before. Spike's immediate instinct had been to back Lorne, a growing respect evident in his manner whenever he addressed the demon. Angel could understand it, he himself had hardly lead them into victory the last time, he'd let them down, spent months feeling terrible about it, but at the end of the day what he and Lorne considered to be the 'right thing' were very different. Sasha would die in this process, Lorne had to see it was the only way they could finish Frenac. Wesley saw it. He doubted the others even considered it. Lucy had jumped on the bandwagon with the enthusiasm of a newly empowered slayer, let's save the day, she'd said, let's get Sasha out of there and finish the True God off like two birds with one big mighty stone. She didn't know about sacrifice, not yet. Buffy had learned so much faster; she'd killed the thing she loved, for the good of the world, she'd killed him. So he had to do this thing, he had to hurt them all in the process, make himself the enemy again, but it was the only way.

'I know what you're thinking,' Spike said. 'And it isn't… the only way…' he went on, dragging the toes of his boots in the ice at their feet. 'There's always another way, if we look hard enough, we're not giving up on her yet. She joined this mission around the time you abandoned it. Cleaned up your mess, got Lorne back on track with the hero gig…' he turned and looked at his grandsire, 'we're not giving up.'

Angel avoided his gaze, his eyes focused on the horizon where the pale light was beginning to filter through the clouds. He could see Sasha's palace in the ice.

'We'll do what we have to do,' he said quietly.

Spike snorted and scuffed at the snow about to shoot back a remark. Instead he peered down at the ground.

'Odd,' he said.

'What is?' Angel's thoughts were distant.

'Is it me or is it getting warmer?'

'Warmer? I… I don't know… why do you..?'

Spike drew a toe through the snow and brushed it to one side. Beneath him the browns and golds of the sands below burst through the white.

'It's melting,' he said.

'Sasha's weakening?' Angel said hopefully, 'her powers draining, maybe then we'd have a chance to help her?'

Spike looked up suddenly at the horizon, his hand reaching instinctively for his companion. 'I don't think she's weakening,' he said seriously, 'I think something is getting stronger,' he tugged sharply on Angel's arm and pulled him over, 'Get down!' he commanded.

At the base of the palace the ground heaved and broke, a jet of lava spewing forth, high into the air and splattering down over the frozen desert. It coloured the sky red with its heat and the air shimmered around it with ferocity. Spike spluttered, his mouth full of snow, and squinted up in time to see the creature erupt from the mud of melted ice. The desert convulsed and the first of his massive claws hooked over the side of a canyon carved in the earth's crust. A roar and its massive horned head emerged in anger, eyes bright and vicious in the darkness. Angel scrabbled to his knees, the air around him thick with embers and fire; it pitted his skin with dark scarring marks.

'Frenac,' he said.

'You think!?' Spike carolled.

From behind them they heard the gas station doors wrench open and its inmates spill onto the desert. Groo, his burnished skin shining in the flames braced himself and gathered the others behind him.

'This is the True God,' he said, 'We shall attack him!'

Beside him Illyria sauntered almost casually, her eyes wide with pleasure at the sight. She tilted her head and gazed at Frenac with curiosity. 'He has grown,' she said at length, 'He feeds on the earth below, on the heat he finds there. We do not attack without the third power.'

In the doorway of the gas station Fred sheltered Aviline in her arms and Lucy's golden hair turned orange in the light of the fire. Everything was distorted and coloured. The world around them melting and changing. Frenac heaved himself from the canyon and turned to stare down at the little group. His head tilted backwards and from its mouth a jet of flame gush upwards into the sky with a roar.

'Plan?' Spike yelled.

The group looked around desperately, the heat was growing unbearable, searing and burning and they wanted to run. Away from the fire, away from the pain it caused, away from the thing in front of them. Frenac's roar turned to a frenzied scream and the first of his hoof like feet crashed down in anger. The desert shook and cracks flew from the ground in spokes, shooting towards them, LA, the palace. If he chose to he would make his way toward them faster than they could escape, bringing that flame and devastation with him.

In the shelter of the gas station Lorne looked past the others to the palace. Even from here he could see the ice that formed it was draining and melting, the towers shrinking, the windows falling in, shapeless and empty. He glanced at Novica whose head was bent in pain.

'What's happening?' Lorne asked him, 'What's happening to her?'

'I… don't know,' he rubbed at his forehead.

'You had that power once, what would you be doing about now?'

'I'd be running, he's too much for one of us, no matter how powerful we once were.'

'I forgot, you're basically a coward,' Lorne shot at him, 'had to work in threes, surround yourself with minions, get your kicks from trying to imprison young women with your magics because you weren't man enough to give them choice. So let me rephrase that question… what would a slayer with your powers do?'

Novica looked up at him, the sweat trickling from his brow as heat and fear combined. 'I'd try to kill him,' he said, and Lorne nodded sharply, 'But I'd fail,' he finished.

Lorne looked back at the palace, 'Maybe she won't,' he said.

-- --

The Thing that had been Sasha stood in the centre of its great hall and watched as the water cascaded from its frozen ceiling. The ornate decoration dribbled and melted around it, even the floor altered, its marble appearance turning to slush. It flitted from corner to corner in the blink of an eye, its fingers touching the walls lightly, the anger building in its blank and colourless face. Finally it reappeared in the middle of the room and held out its arms. Frenac tried to destroy the palace; he would try to destroy the realm. Sasha would destroy it first rather than have him take it.

The Thing felt the power build, course across its shoulders and enter its fingertips. With a blast it sent it hurling towards the disintegrating walls, punched through them and let it fight with the heat of Frenac's hell outside.

-- --

'We need to move now!' Wesley's voice cut through the chaos. At the sound of it Angel rushed forward into his path and the two plunged through the whirling flames and blizzards which raged across the desert. After a beat Spike joined them before a surge of frozen wind pushed the others back towards the gas station.

The Sasha thing had unleashed its power, blowing apart the palace and challenging Frenac who stood massive and powerful between the team and LA. A torrent of ice rained down on the True God who lashed out with claws and flame in an almighty battle. The power which had ripped from Sasha's body coiled back in blue reams and lunged forward again, choking the beast with a hangman's loop of frozen magic.

Illyria watched with detached interest, Groo hovering alongside keen to use the powers of Zeital inside of him.

'Do we fight it?' he asked enthusiastically, 'Do we side with the blue magic?'

'We do,' she said, 'But not yet. Let us take our positions.'

-- --

'She's doing it,' Lorne said, the light of the Sasha thing's magic in the depths of his red eyes. Novica stood by his side, the girls Lucy, Fred and Aviline behind him. 'She's containing him, she's going to do it.'

His old nemesis turned and watched the expression on his face. Lorne's lips were parted in something like awe as they watched Frenac's fire falter and blanch, rage again and fail. The speed and anger contained within the winter magic Novica has lost was beating him back, chaining him in icy bindings, releasing and recapturing. Sasha seemed to have the dominant side.

'It isn't her,' Novica said, 'It's only the power.'

'Whatever, she's winning!'

'No,' his voice was barely audible over the combat. Lorne turned and stared at his human self. Novica dropped his gaze. 'She isn't winning, the power is winning.'

'The power is in her.'

'Lorne…' he didn't know what to say. Lorne's hope was so obvious. A way to avoid the ultimate sacrifice. If she could defeat the True God with her borrowed powers then maybe they could save her in the process without the sacrifice of the three Old Ones. But Novica had felt it as the power had coursed from her body in the explosion that rocked the desert. The power was all, the power fought to defeat Frenac, but the power was the Old One, the God of Winter he had once been. Sasha was beyond that in the ruins of the palace. Or what was left of her was.

Lorne saw it and his face fell. He looked past Frenac to the receding figures of Angel and Wesley, Spike chasing after them. He glanced sideways to where Illyria and Groo moved apart to take up their places. A triangle forming between the three Old Ones, Illyria, Groo and Sasha's corporeal form.

'They wouldn't...' Lorne said, 'They have to give her a chance….'

'That power isn't Sasha, its rooted in her, it clings to this dimension through her being but its _not_ her,' Novica said bluntly, 'It's what I once was, it's not a case of let it win the day on our behalf. If it does win, and Frenac is powerful so it may not, but if it does… it isn't her… it isn't a benevolent force. It will double its strength or more and destroy everything in its path. What we're seeing isn't a mercy mission on behalf of mankind, it isn't the force of a slayer defeating evil, it _is_ evil. I should know…They can't let it win and we've run out of time to help Sasha…'

'They're going to kill her…' Lorne whispered.

Novica shut his eyes briefly and with hesitation reached out to touch Lorne's shoulder. 'Yes,' he said.

'Catch me,' Lorne said quickly and fell hard into Novica's arms.

-- --

They were slowed by the rush of water from the melting palace, heated by the earth below and Frenac's fire. It poured down the last remnants of steps from the building and scalded 

them as they ran, the steam billowing upwards as the Old One's palace evaporated under the strain of the battle. Spike stumbled and catapulted himself forward again, gaining on Angel and Wesley who moved with fierce determination. Their clothes were sodden and the embers that surged in the air charred their skins.

Briefly Angel turned towards Spike and on cue Wesley continued forward, dragging with him a small bag of magics.

'Get back,' Angel called down at the other vampire, 'There's no choice.'

'There has to be a way of separating her from the powers, the way Groo is!'

'No, its different, it's her whole being now and right now Sasha isn't our concern…'

'Angel!

'That is…' Angel pointed behind him where Frenac could be seen rising twice as powerful as before. He lashed out at the chains of ice with which the Sasha thing had bound him and sent them shattering across the desert. Spike saw the blue magics recoil and drive forward weaker than before, the light changing from blues and whites to the red of Frenac's fire. He brought down one great hoof again and a river of lava shot out horizontally from the contact with the ground. The desert buckled and morphed; blacks and oranges heralding the crumbling of the earth's crust. Though it seemed impossible the heat seemed to increase until it seared the lungs of each creature on the plain. Spike shot forward into the palace.

'Are the others in position?' Wesley's voice called from the dripping steaming confines of the ruins, he coughed against the burning air. Angel turned his sharp eyes across the desert and spotted the figures of Illyria and Groo at equal angles to the palace.

'Yes!'

Spike slipped and sent out a hand to catch himself but was rewarded only with a scalding burn to his palm. He looked around him, hot liquid pouring into his face and from the melting beams above, as he raised one arm to shield himself the central beam gave way, crashing to the floor only to melt back into nothing seconds later. And then he saw them, in the centre of what had once been a great hall, crouched by the mirror that had been Novica's, the fire dancing in its glass, Wesley, magics in hand and close by the motionless body of Sasha. The magic still ripped from her body, the powers of the winter god still at war with Frenac, but beneath its shimmering colours she was recognisable as the slayer.

Spike opened his mouth instinctively, 'Wesley, you've got to buy some time!' The watcher flinched, his hands already stained with the melted ice and powers he needed for the incantation. Spike saw his eyes flick to Sasha and then back across the desert where Frenac's sphere of destruction inched further with each second.

The hand gripped hard at his arm and the voice at Spike's shoulder overrode his request. 'There is no more time, do it Wesley.' Spike spun to face his old rival and Angel landed his first blow.

-- --

Fred screamed as Lorne's body dropped into Novica's grasp. The former god staggering at the sudden impact of his weight. Lucy dashed forward and took the burden, laying him down in the doorway of the gas station where the light from the flames moved over his unconscious features in orange waves.

'Not a great time to be on the other side Lorne,' Fred said quickly.

'We might have to make a run for it,' Lucy said, her eyes on the creeping lava just a hundred yards or so from their refuge.

'It won't come to that the others will stop it. Illyria and Groo are in place, they'll begin the spell,' she turned back to Lorne, 'Lorne wake up, we need you here, it's all going down… you know the big hero routine, you want to be here when we finish that thing off and get Sasha back right? Whoever you're guiding right now can wait.'

Novica looked back across the desert at the dim shadow of his palace. 'No they can't,' he said.

-- --

Illyria saw it hit Groo from her place in the desert, the young warrior's body unprepared for the rush of magic and power which would pour from him. He jerked backward and she thought she may even have heard his scream across the battlefield as Zeital's tornado took flight and wrapped its binding arms around Frenac. Groo collapsed, the magical herbs he had imbibed making certain that he would survive the birth of Zeital's fury from his body. It had been but a temporary residence for the magic.

Sasha would not survive, the Old One's eyes turned to the commotion by the palace with idle curiosity. The ice magic was wavering, beaten back by Frenac, and Wesley prepared even now to enact the sacrifice of the Sasha Thing's shell to bind those magics to the True God and incarcerate him.

Illyria looked up at the sky and then finally to the little group of creatures by the gas station. So vulnerable, so foolish and yet with the power between them to organise such a grand show. They would all lose from this, they would all sacrifice in their own way, and yet they went ahead for the good of this pretty little world she had once ruled. She smiled softly, if she felt she was capable of love, she would have loved them for that.

Two magics in place binding Frenac but he showed no signs of weakening. She supposed it was time. Illyria would return again to the Other World when this was done but for this moment she would savour it. For her the onset of her magic was more gradual, she felt it curl in her belly and then send out its tendrils along the length of her limbs. It was a rich and sensuous pleasure to use her powers again. It built and built, the inevitable pushing forward onto every inch of her exterior from the ancient thing within. She felt her shape fluctuate, change and vanish and then she was pure energy at last, and even as she altered she felt every eye turn to her metamorphosis including those of the True God, Frenac.

Behold Illyria, behold your demise.

-- --

If he could walk time the way he could dimensions he would revisit that moment and change its course, but it was gone almost as soon as it begun.

Even as Lorne materialised in the ruins of the palace he saw Angel and Spike spin apart from where they fought and turn as one to witness Illyria's binding of Frenac. A rush of Zeital's furious wind, the blizzard of Sasha's winter blinding and freeing the True God in time for the magics of the Old One Illyria to halt him in his path, a thing of stone. The lava with spattered the God's angry body hardened and cracked, bearing down to hold it in place as the three forces worked to entomb him. But Frenac continued to move, slower than before, but with steady ability, the fire still gushed from his nostrils with a stifled and muted roar.

Illyria's being in this plane had emptied itself of magic. Groo had let go of Zeital's hurricane and only Sasha's body still tethered her powers. As his eyes fell on her marble skin and empty features Lorne's heart leapt hard in sorrow. The blues and silvers of Novica's spells still circled her, enough to keep her in this dimension, enough to prevent the total eclipse of Frenac. Unable to move he caught Wesley's eye in terror and his old friend bent his head in resignation. His soft English tones began to enact the enchantment which would tear the magics from Sasha and bind Frenac and almost at the same instant the room temperature dropped drastically.

Sensing the threat to its power source the Sasha Thing recoiled from Frenac and surged into the ruins. It beat back Angel and Spike, tossed Wesely roughly to one side and repossessed the pale figure of Sasha entirely. Outside the battle took a turn for the worse as Illyria struggled to control the True God with the aid of Zeital's hurricane. In panic Angel tried to move forward against the whirling blizzard the Sasha Thing sent forward to protect itself but he hadn't the strength. It rose and stood centrally, its eyes flicking first to Frenac's war and then to Lorne.

It was eerily quiet in the astral plane, and though he was aware that the others, each touched by death, could see him, his own view of the world through the window of dimensions was quite different. While the battle raged outside he could hear little of it, muffled and distant, and the colours of the ruins were less bright. Only The Sasha Thing shone rightly with preternatural whiteness in each of its features. The skin hard and cold, the eyes translucent, its movements halted and unnatural.

In the corner of his eye he could see the dark shape of Wesley edging closer and in his gut his instinct showed him nothing but fear. This wasn't her; this sculpted shell that had once been Sasha contained nothing of her now. It was worse than Illyria who had always had Fred; there was nothing of humanity here. It gazed at him with emptiness and evil, unfeeling, uncaring, hungry only for power and disturbed by their actions from its war. It resented them, would end them with a sweep of its hand because they cluttered its path to victory and dared to challenge its authority. It vanished and reappeared, first in the face of Angel, then winking out of sight to stand by Spike. He lashed out trying to aim a blow but it merely vanished again to appear before Lorne with the coldest of smiles. Its hair wafted gently in its own breeze, white and cold and for a second a strand touched his face. Even through the astral plane it burned like frostbite on his lips. As its frozen breath cast over his mouth he saw Wesley's shadow move again and Lorne did nothing.

He did nothing as Wesley took her from him.

He did nothing.

The dagger drove solidly through the Sasha Thing's back and the last of its powers burst forth flattening the room and everything standing in it. As the others crashed to their knees Lorne reeled from the blast but remained protected in his astral form. He stood long enough to see the frozen chain of ice return at speed to Frenac and join with Illyria and Zeital binding, incarcerating, freezing him solidly like a statue of worship, high and massive in the desert which no longer burned. The final embers drifted down onto the earth and the world became quiet.

The others began to crawl to their knees and as the muffled sound of their movement reached his ears Lorne looked down to the spot where she had been. For the briefest of moments her shape clung to existence, a curled body of marble and ice, the features colourless and the eyes empty but the image of her nonetheless. He stepped forward meaning to sweep it into his arms, the last trace of the woman he had loved and lost for the mission, but even as he knelt he saw it change and it crumbled on the slightest breeze from outside.

If he could walk time the way he could dimensions, he would revisit that moment and hold her, but it was gone almost as soon as it had begun.

In the gas station across the desert Novica fell to his knees.

-- --

'It's over,' Fred's voice was soft against the backdrop of silence. 'Frenac's gone.' Her big eyes roamed over the desert and over the monument to battle that was Frenac's stone clad body.

'The others?' Lucy joined her by the doorway.

Fred peered across the landscape. In the distance she could see Groo climbing to his feet, exhausted but unbeaten. Where Illyria had been there was nothing and beyond that in the ruins of the palace she saw no movement.

'I don't know,' she said, 'I guess whoever made it… I guess they'll make their way back.

'And them?' Lucy nodded towards Lorne and Novica. Fred glanced at the pair. Lorne still unconscious, Novica close by, the strength gone from him, tears glittering on his lashes in the half light of the rising sun which filtered through the windows.

'I don't know what will happen to them,' Fred said sadly.

The two women turned back to watch the sunrise.

-- --

Spike and Angel stood by the entrance to the palace ruins and watched as the sun moved 

across the desert, the beginnings of a new day.

'I guess it worked,' Angel said quietly.

Spike's jaw twitched. 'I guess your plan panned out the way you wanted it to.'

Angel dropped his eyes to the floor. He couldn't argue right now. The palace echoed with misery. Behind them Wesley gathered his things, his gaze flickering over the crumbled figure of Sasha which lay destroyed by the mirror.

'We could have lost many more,' Wesley said, 'She would have understood.'

'Slayers do that,' Spike said, 'They're heroes, but I've got a nasty feeling we lost more than just her.' He watched as Angel nodded slowly.

'What do you mean?' Wesley asked, moving to join him.

'Well for starters,' Spike said, 'Where's Lorne?'

They looked around the ruins; Lorne's astral self had vanished.

-- --

Night fell and peace fell with it. The two vampires strayed back to the gas station under cover of darkness and with them Wesley. There had been no sign of Lorne since the battle had ended and they concluded he must have returned to where is body lay. But in the gas station things were almost as silent. Fred and Lucy waited quietly in one corner, their minds occupied with the whereabouts of the others until at last the doors opened and Angel entered. The reunion was one of relief but not of joy. The embraces were brief and awkward and after a few seconds the group scattered to different parts of the building. The same thoughts in each mind, _What now?_

In the store room to which they had moved Novica crouched against one wall and never moved his eyes from Lorne. He sensed it wouldn't be long before the demon ended his trance and returned to this plane and when he did he felt what was coming. He felt her inside, waiting. In her makeshift crib Aviline shifted restlessly and let out small noises akin to sighs, not quite a cry but tinged with misery.

And in the Other World Lorne rested by the Pool in the Greater Hall, the sound of its waters lapping the only thing to soothe him. He knew what he must do next too and the pain of it was insurmountable. As he watched darkness fall in the waters he felt the need become more pressing, he had his task to do and it could not be avoided. At last the Pool gurgled and churned, sending him out on his mission.

'Do me a favour,' he asked the waters softly, 'make it my last.'

Lorne stirred in the store room and opened his eyes to find Novica's gaze meet his. Painfully, stiff from his trance, Lorne sat up and drew himself to sit crossed legged before his mirror image. The two faced each other without word of instruction, just the darkness and the sound of their breath. Lorne lifted his hands and took Novica's.

'Time to let her go,' he said.

Novica nodded and felt the squeeze of Lorne's fingers.

'I guess I should thank you,' Lorne said hesitantly, 'For keeping her safe… but it seems… its hard… to thank you for that when…'

'I know.'

'Destiny doesn't make it any easier to accept,' Lorne said. 'I've read so many destinies, seen so much pain ahead for so many people, seen it for myself too and seen it change. I can sense when something is supposed to be… even if I didn't see it coming I can tell if it's right. And this…'

'This wasn't right,' Novica said bitterly.

'You're wrong,' Lorne's eyes flashed in the gloom, 'What I witnessed in those ruins today, it convinced me this was right. This was what she was all about. The sun rose again today. This was right.'

Novica closed his eyes and cleared his throat harshly, the lump there choking him. 'So what now, how do I find her?'

'Sing for me, the first thing that comes to your mind.'

-- --

'_Go on sweetie you can't expect to help me run a karaoke bar and not get up there and sing!'_

_Lorne pottered around the bar at Caritas, checking supplies, mixing himself a drink. The club was empty, yet to be reopened, a fresh new start for him and his girl and their little one. He heard Sasha clatter on the stage awkwardly. Superhero she might be but she was nervous as hell near that karaoke machine. But she'd said yes immediately when he had suggested rebuilding Caritas. Caritas reborn. She knew what it meant to him, after everything they'd been through with Novica, with Levinia, Lorne needed to ground himself in familiarity and they needed a base. He looked up at her there on the empty stage and smiled encouragingly._

'_I don't wanna,' she pouted. 'Can't I go kill a few vamps?'_

'_What have I told you about murdering my clientele?' Lorne chided, 'If you must stake 'em make sure you get the ones who run up an unpaid bar bill first.' He polished a glass and pointed at her, 'Come on.'_

'_No reading me, last time you read me we ended up smashing mirrors and getting lost in hell dimensions and all sorts, can we just avoid that this time?'_

'_I can't not read you honey that's how it works, but I promise not to look too deep if it makes you nervous, ok? No big old destinies, I'll keep it to what we'll be doing a week Tuesday. Deal?'_

'_Just being on this damned stage makes me nervous,' she grumbled and pushed the hair behind her ears as she sulkily grabbed the mike._

'_You've a beautiful voice cupcake, when you chose to use it,' he smiled. 'Come on test out the sound system for me.'_

'_What do I sing?'_

'_First thing that comes to mind, or first thing that comes to the machine's mind if all else fails,' he stacked the glass with a chink that echoed off the newly painted walls. 'Something pretty,' he added._

_There was a squeak of feedback and then the first bars opened. A light piano tune, sweet soft sad notes cutting through the air. She began hesitantly and then her light childlike voice crept into the room. Lorne closed his eyes and pictured the first time he had heard her sing, back in the alleyway in Chicago, where he had hidden from his own destiny before finding hers. She had seen him on this path as he had set her on hers. That time it had been Somewhere Over the Rainbow, a song about bittersweet hope. This time she had picked something much sadder, a slow melancholy lyric of blame and regret, betrayal and loss._

_I won't disown, those things my heart has sown,_

_The blame is mine alone,_

_I made this fickle heart my own,_

_and how am I supposed to see the stars,_

_How am I supposed to see that far?_

_As she sang Lorne fought hard not to see the darkness, closing his mind to the psychic channels which tried to lead him through her destiny._

'_I won't see, I won't see, I won't see,' he repeated to himself, 'Please don't let me see.'_

-- --

'How am I supposed to see,

The stars you say are meant for me,

How am I supposed to praise,

Those stars with eyes I cannot raise….'

It was her voice. Novica's light tenor giving way to the tones that were so familiar to him, and yet so far away. Lorne opened his eyes and found himself in the Other World, by the Pool in the Greater Hall, the water separating him from her. She stopped, the last notes echoing away in the vast chamber, and for a moment they were silent.

She looked as she had always looked. His beautiful, beautiful girl. The warmth was back in her eyes, the colour in her hair, each mark and scar of battle removed from her skin which shone with the pale honey tones it had always held. He remembered the touch of it, the softness of her when she curled against him in sleep, the ring of her laughter first thing in the morning. He remembered it all, each detail, in those few seconds and felt the pain, hope and misery settle in his throat.

The pool between them lapped once insistently and he remembered his purpose but before he could speak she was ahead of him.

'I guess you're the guy to see about an afterlife?' she said, trying to affect cheerfulness and failing.

'I guess I am, I don't get to chose though, they've already chosen for you.'

'Story of my life,' she said, 'Slayers don't get to choose.'

A beat and he finally plucked up courage to make his way slowly around the edge of the pool towards her.

'I think I have to guide you now,' he said, 'set you on your path, send you to where you belong.'

'Great,' she said with the mildest defensiveness, 'Bring it on, what's next? Battle with a demon nemesis, spell in a hell dimension, where's the place of the moment for a dead slayer anyway…' her voice trailed away as he reached her and he felt her resilience go.

'Sasha?'

'Why is this happening? Why did I do this?'

'Honey?'

'It's all my fault and I don't even understand why? What was I thinking? Why did I hurt you, why did I choose that path… because I did choose Lorne, I chose to cross sides and give up on the mission, I just lost all hope. But I don't know what I was trying to prove and now I've lost everything, now it's all gone.'

He felt the tears come to his eyes in time with hers. 'It isn't,' he said, 'it's all still there. Nothing really ends it just changes or moves. Look.'

The waters in the pool flickered and the desert appeared before them, quiet, damaged but intact, the gas station nearby and inside their friends. 'It's all still there,' he said, 'Each move we make is really preordained, it hurts, but it works for a reason. Everything happens for a reason sweetie.'

'Is that what you believe?' she asked sharply, 'Or are you just being the guide, is it some Other World spiel you have to trot off when a new arrival crosses the dimensions?'

He let out a sad laugh, 'Something like that,' he confessed. 'I have a whole bag of tricks and reassurances at my disposal. Somehow they don't seem to be enough here…'

Sasha looked down into the water. 'I'm glad they're ok, I'm glad they're safe. It's because of them that I took his powers, I knew he was trying to bind me, kill me, keep me with him somehow and I realised too late I couldn't escape so I thought if I could weaken him… but it went too far. It poured through me so fast, there was so much of it and I made the leap into 

Novica and left that _thing_ stronger than ever. Old One plus Slayer powers… I just made you one super enemy to deal with.' She swept her hands over her face.

'You did a brave thing,' Lorne said.

'Did I? Brave or foolish?'

'You didn't let it destroy you.'

'If I had I wouldn't be feeling like this,' she said. She perched on the edge of the pool, never taking her eyes from the scenes which unfolded there. Fred fixing herself a snack in the gas station, Spike lighting a cigarette, his eyes lost in darkness, Aviline peaceful in her crib.

'Lorne, I'm barely starting,' she said softly, 'There's so much I wanted to do, so many things I wanted to see, places to go. Things I wanted. You and Aviline, maybe a dog,' she laughed quietly, 'Hell why not throw in a convertible and a house with a white picket fence. I wanted it all, Lorne, and it wasn't really much to ask. Friends, family, a future. And I know as a slayer we don't get one of those guaranteed but I'm sure there was more in store for me, if I hadn't taken such a wrong turn, there was so much out there waiting for me to find it.' She leaned forward and let her fingers trail through the water, breaking the image. 'It would have been nice to find out,' she finished.

He waited, a dozen sentences beginning and vanishing in his head. He didn't have the reassurances she needed, and he didn't have any hope to give. The decisions were all made. She was twenty years old, she didn't want to die but the Powers had spoken and destiny was near completion. Lorne felt the atmosphere in the Greater Hall alter and knew he had to finish his task. She felt it too.

'Where will they send me?' she asked.

'I don't really know sweetie, I tend to just take people to the gates.'

'Are they pearly ones?' she asked raising a small smile.

'Not usually no, they're not actual gates baby, I just kind of deliver folks to the right spot and then…'

'Then what do you do?'

'I watch them go in… watch them meet with their family or friends, see them forget about all the hardships of living. They're made free by all the happiness that waits for them. They walk away and I'm left standing there alone and then… well then I leave them to it. I'm not part of that world.' He paused. 'It's quite beautiful…'

She nodded, 'Then why do you sound so sad?'

'Because I'm not ready to let you go,' he said.

Her eyes flew to his and before he could respond she was clinging to him, the tears flowing down her cheeks as she begged him.

'Then don't, please don't, I'm not ready, please don't make me… please…'

Lorne bit his lips and held her as she sobbed and even then he knew it was all too late. He wouldn't walk her to her place, he wouldn't see her happy, the Other World grew impatient, time had gone too quickly, she was leaving him now. The powers stepped in and did the job he couldn't complete alone. He felt the light gather around her, even as his fingers tangled in her hair, even as he held her to him, the light gathered and her voice faded, the sound of her tears echoing in the hall.

'Please don't leave me here… I'm not ready… Please Lorne… Please I love you…'

He couldn't hold her there, that wasn't his job, he was just the guide. His hands collapsed in against his own body until he wrapped them around himself and felt the last of her spirit leave him. His legs gave way and he crashed against the edge of the pool as the darkness gathered in corners and crept across the chamber. He hugged himself and felt the tears stream down his cheeks, dropping from his bent head onto his chest where her face had been buried moments before. The Pool behind him sighed in sorrow. The greater hall was empty. Sasha was gone.

-- --

Novica opened his eyes after what seemed like hours. His hands were still in Lorne's and the gas station was in darkness. He sensed the demon was still in his trance and he settled again to wait. Inside he felt different. The part of Sasha she had transferred to him when she had taken his powers was gone; he had felt it rise from him as he had sung. He didn't know the song, didn't recognise its slow tune but as the images had come to him he recognised that it was her memory and not his. Her memory now given over to Lorne so that they could say goodbye.

He swallowed hard and tried to control the sadness which filled the space she had left behind, aware that across from him Lorne's face glistened with silent tears. Even as his spirit led her to the safety of the Other World, his body began to mourn. Novica squeezed the fingers between his and rubbed them gently with his thumbs, powerless to do anything else in the face of this most human emotion.

As more time passed Lorne stirred and his trance lifted, but the silence between them remained.

-- --

Angel put the last of the weapons in the trunk and moved to the driver's door. He looked up expectantly at the rest of the team. Spike stood to one side smoking, his body language set enough to tell Angel he wouldn't be joining him. Wesley took his place in the passenger side and looked at Fred. She looked away quickly but without malice. It was just too much to handle too quickly, she needed time and there were people here that needed her more than Wesley did.

People like Lucy. Now the apocalypse was over she had to face the reality of being alone in 

the world and Fred wouldn't allow her to be by herself. It was an experience she had had in Pylea for years and she couldn't wish that on a young girl. Fred would go with her to Italy, debrief to the watchers council and introduce her to the world of slayers. And if it wasn't what she needed they would travel back to the states, figure out something else. Right now nothing was set in stone, too much had changed and new rifts were obvious in the team.

But first there was the question of Lorne and Aviline. As Angel drove away the two women went back into the gloom of the gas station and found Groo seated by the door to the store room.

'Anything?' Fred asked, joining him to one side.

'It has been quiet,' Groo said. He rubbed his shoulder and tried to ease out the pains which still filled his body after the conflict. 'I believe they are thinking.'

'There's certainly a lot to think about,' Lucy sat crossed legged at their feet and joined them in looking at the door. 'But they have to come out sometime; Lorne has to tell us what to do next.'

'I don't think he wants that role anymore,' Fred said unhappily.

'If Lorne no longer wishes to lead you then I would be happy to assume the role of a champion and make the difficult decisions regarding battle,' Groos smiled brightly, 'This would help you, yes?'

Fred placed one hand over his, 'I guess so but let's not rush into electing a new leader or anything. I'm hoping we won't have anything to battle for a while and I just want to know Lorne's OK.'

'What about _him_?' Lucy asked.

'Who?

'Novica,' she said.

Fred nodded in realisation. 'Well I don't know I don't get any big bad vibe coming off of him now.'

'Surely that's not the point,' Lucy said, 'it's cos of him that Sasha's…' she stopped.

'It's up to Lorne,' Fred said, 'He's the one hurt most by this, he needs to make the decision.'

'Lorne is still the leader,' Groo clarified. He smiled and then as the two girls fell quiet the smile faltered. 'Lorne is wise, he has much experience of reading beings,' he said, 'He will make the right decision and we will support him because he is our friend, yes?'

'Yes,' Fred whispered.

-- --

They were sleeping; he could feel it in their auras, the unsuspecting flicker of dreams and nightmares and the subconscious which could not be controlled. As they slept they processed the events of the past few days and months, the human brain's way of dealing with things; his own brain, perhaps being less human, wasn't so sure a few nights rest would help him deal.

But he was sure of one thing and that was that he was done, finished. He didn't regret it, returning to LA with Sasha all that time ago. The world still stood in one reasonable piece and his friends would be OK. He had meant what he had said the day before while rallying the others. He was proud of them all, it gave him only pleasure to think that Fred and Wesley were back in this world, even if Wesley… well he could even stretch to understand that. Good old Krevlorneswrath, always seeing both sides of the joust.

It would continue to hurt if he stayed. He would always see both sides, he would always be forced to take one or the other and witness the hurt on the opposite side. Nothing was black and white, pure and good or evil incarnate. He had always believed that, and before all this business he had lived according to that belief. It was time to go back to hat he knew, somewhere far away. Time to hide again in the shadows of a city where no-one knew him.

He lifted the little bag he had packed and slung it over one shoulder. He armed himself with a light weapon and buttoned his overcoat, drawing a hat down over his forehead and hiding his horns. Around LA the authorities were probably still on the lookout for demons and under-worldlings, but if he moved far enough he could slink into that underworld and vanish.

At last he bent and lifted Aviline to him. His most precious daughter, the last of her mother, the last of Sasha. When she had been trapped in the ruined city he had vowed to shift his priorities. He wasn't a fighter or a champion, right now he was a daddy, and if keeping her safe meant living low profile then he welcomed that. He kissed her cheek softly and let her snuggle against the lapel of his coat. Her fingers picked sleepily at the material and he heard her gurgle gently. For a moment he leaned his head against hers and let his memories drift in the direction of her own. The psychic bond between them would always keep her mother alive and just as the tears threatened to spill over his lid again he took hold of the door handle and slipped from the room, padding softly past his sleeping friends with a lingering glance.

Outside the day was still an hour or so away, but dawn was already rising slowly; time to get a little distance and work out where to go from there. LA smouldered on the horizon so he turned from it and wandered east to where the faint pinks and blues of sunrise were forming. Behind him his shadow streamed darkly towards the city that had given him so much, and cost him more.

'Just you and me kid,' he said softly, his voice smooth. 'You and me in the big old world. No more nasties, no more bad stuff, I promise. I'll keep you safe sweetie,' he kissed her lightly as he walked. 'Just you and me and…' he stopped, certain of what he felt behind him, and half turned back in the direction of the gas station.

One hand raised against the rising sun, his back to the building, his skin pale and clothes dishevelled he stood waiting. He dropped the arm and returned Lorne's look with a mixture of shame and sadness taking a few hesitant steps forward until he was a dozen yards away.

Lorne raised his eyebrows and Novica stumbled for words.

'I heard you leave…' he said.

'I think you _felt _it,' Lorne corrected. 'You've a bit of the psychic in you.'

Novica nodded miserably, 'I got that from you.'

Lorne looked down at Aviline and back at the man who had stolen his face and at one point his soul. He tried to move away but felt compelled to hear him out. 'What will you do?' he asked.

Novica looked about him helplessly, at the destruction rained down on the city and desert, at the gas station that contained not enemies but not quite friends. 'I don't know,' he said, 'I'm not a god, I'm not quite a person, I don't feel evil but I'm not entirely sure I'm good… I have all these… _feelings… _I miss her,' Lorne flinched but Novica continued. 'I feel connected to her and to you, and to Aviline… I know I shouldn't but I shared a soul with you all once and I…' he hesitated.

'…You've nowhere else to go?' Lorne finished for him.

Novica shook his head slowly, his brown eyes picking up the first rays of morning. Lorne studied him for a moment considering how to say what he felt.

'When she died, a part of me died with her,' he said, 'But then I found that in its place a part of her lived on in you. You gave me hope, you kept her safe, and you _felt_ why that was important. Something in you changed and I couldn't hate you for what you did.'

Novica said nothing for a moment and then, 'That's gone now, she's moved on, I can feel she's gone. I don't know what I am now.'

Lorne turned to face him completely and took a step towards him. 'I don't know what you are either. Person? Glamour? Unemployed hell god with a grudge? But you know what I don't quite know what I am right now so I can't hold it against you. So much has happened, I barely recognise me or the things I feel, I don't know why I've done some stuff or what I'll do next. But I'm certain I know one thing about you and about me. She's in us both,' he said, 'and she's in this little one.'

Lorne adjusted Aviline's blanket in his arms and watched as the child smiled up at him. Novica inched closer and her eyes flicked over to take him in. No fear, no crying, just recognition. Lorne stroked her hair softly and turned his attention back to Novica.

'For whatever reason you're a part of this now,' Lorne said, 'I don't know how I feel about it really, I don't think I feel too much at all at the moment and maybe that'll change but…'. Lorne held out his free hand, 'Come on,' he said.

Novica looked up at him startled.

'You want me to come with you?' he asked.

'I think the word 'want' is probably a bit strong, but I think it's probably what should happen 

so I'll put up with it. Besides I trust my daughter's judgement and she seems to like you,' he looked down at her thoughtfully, 'Children can see through all the history and baggage that comes with it. They can see the person hidden underneath and they don't judge. They're instinctive, empathic. I used to be that way; I want to be that way again maybe,' he said quietly.

Novica edged closer to Lorne and then looked out into the sunrise ahead of them. 'Thank you,' he whispered. 'Do you know where we're going?'

'Well you could sing me a tune and that would probably tell us,' Lorne said lightly, the golden light warming his face and casting playful shadows from the brim of his hat. 'Or we could just start walking and see where we turn up. Either way, destiny will have something in store.'

He moved forward a few steps and then stopped, swinging round with his bag in one hand and tossing it to Novica with a gentle laugh. 'If you're coming peach pie, make yourself useful and carry the luggage; I don't do heavy lifting, fist fights, sports, or slaying of _any_ description. I don't run unless I'm being chased, I only wear the best French viscose, I won't drink anything that isn't well mixed, I get up _late_, I won't tolerate poor hygiene and sweetie? If you dare to murder any number by Streisand within range of my delicate ears please be aware that ex godly hell demon or not I will have the right to smack you down….'


End file.
